mtm 


mtammm 


YANKEE  SHIPS 

AND 


YANKEE  SAILORS 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


YANKEE    SHIPS    AND    YANKEE 
SAILORS:— TALES     OF     i8l2 


'T^^i^o 


"There  was  a  figure  crawling  up  below  him. 


Yankee  Ships  and  Yankee 
Sailors  :  — Tales  of  1812 


^  ^  ■>;   ■•  •  ■'  ""  ■"  >' 
1       >   _    ' ,  ,  ,  '  5 

By 

James  Barnes 

Author  of  "Naval  Engagements  of  the  War  of  1812'* 
"  A  Loyal  Traitor,"  "For  King  or  Country,"  etc. 


With  Numerous  Illustrations  by 
R.  F.  Zogbaum  and  Carlton  T.  Chapman 


New  York 
The  Macmillan  Company 

London:  Macmillan  &  Co.,  Ltd. 
1906 

All  rights  reserved 


«        •  e     •      • 

•   .  ••     • 

»  «       »         • 


Copyright,  1897, 
By  The  Macmillan  Company. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped  Octob«r,  1897.      Reprinted  November, 
1897  ;  October,  1898  ;  November,  1899  ;  February,  1905. 
New  edition  September,  1906. 


Norivood  Press 

J.  S.  Cushing  &  Co. — Berwick  &  Smith 

Norwood  Mass.   U.  S.  A. 


GIF7 


To  my  Brother 


^5b 


278 


PREFACE 

IN  presenting  this  volume  of " Tales  of  1812" 
it  is  not  the  intention  of  the  author  to  give 
detailed  accounts  of  actions  at  sea  or  to  present 
biographical  sketches  of  well-known  heroes;  he 
wishes  but  to  tell  something  of  the  ships  that  fought 
the  battles,  whose  names  are  inseparably  connected 
with  a  glorious  past,  and  to  relate  incidents  con- 
nected with  the  Yankee  sailors  who  composed  their 
crews  —  "A  Yankee  Ship  and  a  Yankee  Crew "  — 
thus  runs  the  old  song ;  it  is  to  exploit  both  in  a 
measure  that  is  the  intention  of  this  book.  Brave 
fellows,  these  old-time  Jackies  were.  Their  day- 
has  gone  by  with  the  departed  day  also,  of  the 
storm-along  captains,  the  men  who  carried  sail  in  all 
sorts  of  weather,  who  took  their  vessels  through 
dangerous  passages  unmarked  by  buoys,  with  only 
the  fickle  wind  to  drive  them,  who  sailed  into  the 
enemy's  cruising-grounds,  and  counting  on  the  good 
Yankee  pine  and  live  oak,  had  perilous  escapes  and 
adventures  which  fiction  cannot  exaggerate.  It  stirs 
one's  blood  to  read  of  these.  Surely,  it  will  not 
arouse  a  hatred  for  by-gone  enemies,  to  hark  back 

to  them. 

vii 


Vlll 


Preface 


The  incidents  made  use  of  in  the  following  pages 
are  historical,  or  at  least  authentic  —  some  may 
perhaps  come  under  the  head  of  tradition.  Tradi- 
tion is  historical  rumor;  it  may  be  proved  by  inves- 
tigation to  be  actual  fact,  or  it  may  be  accepted  at  its 
face  value,  on  account  of  its  probability.  To  inves- 
tigate, one  is  led  to  break  open  and  dissect  and  some- 
times we  destroy  a  wealth  of  sentiment  in  the  pro- 
ceeding ;  by  casting  aside  tradition  that  is  harmless 
we  destroy  the  color  of  history ;  we  may  lose  its  side 
lights  and  shadows  that  give  vividness  and  beauty 
to  the  whole  effect.  It  has  not  been  a  spirit  of 
research  into  the  science  of  history,  or  a  chance  for 
deep  delving  into  figures  and  records,  that  has 
animated  the  author,  although  he  has  drawn  upon 
state  papers  for  material,  and  all  correspondence  and 
important  references  can  be  vouched  for.  He  has 
endeavored  to  refreshen  the  colors  by  removing  the 
dust  that  may  have  settled.  He  has  touched  the 
fragile  bric-a-brac  of  tradition  with  the  feather  duster 
of  investigation.  There  is  sufficient  excuse  for 
everything  that  is  written  in  this  book.  Facts  are 
not  lacking  to  prove  much  here  to  be  true.  It  will 
not  confuse  our  historical  knowledge  to  accept  it 
thus. 

We  can  draw  accurate  conclusions  as  to  what  kind 
of  men  these  fine  old  fellows  were ;  how  they 
looked  ;  how  they  spoke  and  acted.     Their  deeds 


Preface  ix 

are  part  of  the  nation's  record,  and  their  ships  exist 
now  in  the  shape  of  a  few  old  hulls.  We  can  mark 
how  carefully  and  strongly  they  were  constructed ; 
we  can  imagine  them  swarming  with  men  and  quiv- 
ering beneath  the  thunder  of  broadsides.  The 
author  has  tried  to  put  the  sailor  back  upon  his  ship 
again.  Here  we  have  the  old  tales  now  retold ; 
retold  by  one  who  loves  to  Hsten  to  them,  there- 
fore to  talk  about  them.  This  is  his  prologue  to 
the  telling,  and  that  is  all  there  is  to  it. 


CONTENTS 


Allen,  of  the  Chesapeake 
Reuben  James,  Able  Seaman 
The  Men  behind  the  Times 
The  Coward 
The  Scapegoat    . 
The  Loss  of  the  Fixen 
In  the  Harbor  of  Fayal 
The  Escape  of  Symington 
The  Narragansett 
Fighting  Stewart 
Two  Duels         • 
Dartmoor 

The  Rival  Life-Savers 
Random  Adventures 


Page 
I 

33 

51 

87 
109 

125 
H7 
171 

195 
215 

235 
259 

271 


List  of  Illustrations 


"  It  was  Lieutenant  Allen  !  *'  .  • 

**  Reuben  James  sprang  forward  " 

**  *  What  d'ye  mean  by  attackin'  a  peaceful  whaler  ? 

**  Carefully  he  lowered  away" 

*'  *  Stay  here  no  longer  —  though  I  would  have  you  with 


me 


'<  Everything  was  done  that  good  seamanship  could 

"  There  was  a  figure  crawling  up  below  him  " 

««  She  came  about  like  a  peg  top  " 

«*  Over  fence  and  hedge  "     . 

"  A  discussion  that  grew  more  heated  every  moment 

"  « I  observed  it,'  s^d  the  Lieutenant "  . 

"  The  deadly  volley  "  .... 

"  « Now  we  have  him,  lads  ! '  '*     . 


direct 


Opposite  Page 

.   i8 


30 
47 
79 

104 
120 
141 
167 
190 
212 
225 
258 
268 


ALLEN,    OF   THE    CHESAPEAKE 


ALLEN,  OF    THE    CHESAPEAKE 

GIVE  a  ship  an  unlucky  name,  and  it  will 
last  throughout  the  whole  of  her  career. 
A  sailor  is  proverbially  superstitious,  and 
he  clings  jealously  to  tradition. 

It  is  told  that  when  the  frigate  Chesapeake  was 
launched  she  stuck  fast  on  the  ways,  and  did  not 
reach  the  water  until  the  following  day,  which  was 
Friday.  Although  she  was  a  fine  vessel  to  look  at, 
she  grounded  upon  the  bar  upon  her  first  attempt 
to  sail,  and,  when  once  free,  behaved  herself  in  such 
a  lubberly  fashion  that  those  who  witnessed  her 
starting  out  declared  she  was  bewitched.  Even 
after  many  changes  had  been  made  in  the  length  of 
her  masts,  in  the  weight  of  spars,  and  the  cut  of 
sails,  still  she  was  considered  by  many  a  failure. 
And,  although  her  sailing  qualities  improved  as 
time  went  on,  yet  her  bad  name  stuck  to  her,  as 
bad  names  will. 

Given  this  drawback,  the  unlucky  captain  of  such 
a  craft  finds  it  difficult  to  recruit  a  proper  crew,  and 
must  often  be  content  with  green  hands,  or  the 
riffraff  disdained  by  other  ships'  masters. 

3 


4  Allen,  of  the  Chesapeake 

Comitiodore  James'iBarron,  who  had  been  ordered 
to  the  Chesapec^key'iN.?iS.'a.hr'?iVQ,  officer.  He  had  suc- 
ceeded the  fieppery  Gon^mo'dore  Preble  in  command 
of  the  fleet  that  had  so  successfully  negotiated  the 
operations  before  Tripoli,  and  there  he  had  won  for 
himself  a  name  and  reputation.  Nevertheless,  he 
was  not  entirely  popular  with  his  officers.  They 
failed  to  find  in  him  the  graciousness  of  manner  and 
deportment,  the  strict  adherence  to  the  lines  of  duty, 
and  yet  the  kindliness  of  thought  and  conduct  that 
distinguished  young  Captain  Bainbridge ;  and  they 
missed,  strange  to  say,  the  iron  hand  and  stern  rule 
of  Preble,  the  martinet. 

Just  before  sailing  from  the  Capes  to  relieve  the 
Constitution  on  the  Mediterranean  station,  the  Chesa- 
peake had  recruited,  from  Delaware  and  Maryland,  a 
green  crew.  Not  above  fifty  of  her  complement 
were  men-of-warsmen.  Perhaps  one  hundred  more 
had  seen  service  in  deep-sea  craft,  and  had  made 
long  cruises ;  but  the  rest,  numbering  probably  one 
hundred  and  fifty,  were  longshoremen  or  landsmen. 
Lying  inside  the  mouth  of  Chesapeake  Bay  were 
several  British  men-of-war.  As  was  usual  when  in 
American  ports,  they  were  compelled  to  watch  their 
crews  most  closely,  for  the  higher  pay  and  the  better 
treatment,  which  cannot  be  denied,  had  tempted 
many  an  impressed  seaman  to  leave  his  ship,  and 
take  refuge  under  the  American  flag. 


Allen,  of  the  Chesapeake  5 

It  was  claimed  by  VIce-Admiral  Berkeley  in  com- 
mand of  the  English  fleet,  that  four  British  sailors 
had  deserted  from  the  Melampus,  and  joined  Bar- 
ron's frigate.  The  following  correspondence  passed 
between  Robert  Smith,  the  Secretary  of  the  Navy 
at  Washington,  and  Commodore  Barron,  in  relation 
to  the  matter.  It  explains  in  the  best  way  possible, 
how  affairs  stood  at  the  outset. 

Washington,  April  6,  1807. 
To   Commodore   "James  Barron:  — 

Sir  :  It  has  been  represented  to  me  that  William  Ware, 
Daniel  Martin,  John  Strachan,  John  Little,  and  others, 
deserters  from  a  British  ship  of  war  at  Norfolk,  have  been 
entered  by  the  recruiting  officer  at  that  place  for  our  ser- 
vice. You  will  be  pleased  to  make  full  inquiry  relative  to 
these  men  (especially,  if  they  are  American  citizens),  and 
inform  me  of  the  result.  You  will  immediately  direct  the 
recruiting  officer  in  no  case  to  enter  deserters  from  Brit- 
ish ships  of  war, 

RoBT.  Smith. 

To  this  letter  Commodore  Barron  made  haste  to 
reply,  and  the  following  is  taken  verbatim  from  his 
note  to  the  Secretary  :  — 

"William  Ware  was  pressed  from  on  board  the  brig 
Neptune^  Captain  Crafts,  by  the  British  frigate,  Melampus^ 
in  the  Bay  of  Biscay  (in  1805).  ...  He  is  a  native 
American,  born   at   Bruce's   Mills,  on  Pipe  Creek,  in  the 


6  Allen,  of  the  Chesapeake 

county  of  Frederick,  Maryland,  and  served  his  time  at  said 
mills.  He  also  lived  at  Ellicot's  Mills,  near  Baltimore,  and 
drove  a  waggon  several  years  between  Hagerstown  and 
Baltimore.  He  also  served  eighteen  months  on  board  the 
U,  S.  frigate,  Chesapeake.^  under  the  command  of  Captain 
Morris  and  Captain  J.  Barron.  He  is  an  Indian-looking 
man. 

"  Daniel  Martin  was  impressed  at  the  same  time  and 
place  J  a  native  of  Westport,  in  Massachusetts,  about  thirty 
miles  to  the  eastward  of  Newport,  Rhode  Island ;  served 
his  time  out  of  New  York  with  Captain  Marrowby  of  the 
Caledonia;  refers  to  Mr.  Benjamin  Davis,  merchant,  and 
Mr.  Benjamin  Corse,  of  Westport.      He  is  a  colored  man. 

"John  Strachan,  born  in  Queen  Ann's  County,  Mary- 
land, between  Centreville  and  Queenstown;  sailed  in  the 
brigantine  Martha  Bland.,  Captain  Wyvill,  from  Norfolk 
to  Dublin,  and  from  thence  to  Liverpool.  He  then  left 
the  vessel  and  shipped  on  board  an  English  Guineaman ; 
he  was  impressed  on  board  the  Melampus.^  off  Cane  Finis- 
terre ;  to  better  his  condition  he  consented  to  enter,  being 
determined  to  make  his  escape  when  opportunity  offered ; 
he   served  on   board  said  frigate  two  years  ;   refers  to  Mr. 

John   Price   and  Pratt,  Esq.,  on   Kent  Island,  who 

know  his  relatives.  He  is  a  white  man,  about  five  feet 
seven  inches  high. 

"  William  Ware  and  John  Strachan  have  protections.^ 
Daniel  Martin  says  he  lost  his  after  leaving  the  frigate. 

"  John  Little,  alias  Francis  and  Ambrose  Watts,  escaped 
from  the   Melampus  at  the  same  time,  are  known  to  the 

1  Papers  proving  their  American  citizenship. 


Allen,  of  the  Chesapeake  7 

above  persons  to  be  Americans,  but  have  not  been  entered 
by  my  recruiting  officer." 

The  foregoing  proves  beyond  all  manner  of  doubt 
what  ground  Commodore  Barron  had  in  taking  the 
stand  he  did  further  on  in  the  proceedings.  But 
Admiral  Berkeley  was  a  very  proud,  obstinate  man. 
His  feelings  had  been  hurt  by  the  refusal  of  the 
Yankee  commodore  to  give  up  his  men,  and  he 
bided  his  time. 

On  Monday,  June  22,  1807,  the  Chesapeake  put 
to  sea  with  her  ill-assorted  and  undisciplined  crew. 
In  the  harbor  of  Lynnhaven  lay  the  British  squadron 
under  the  command  of  Commodore  Douglass,  act- 
ing under  the  orders  of  Vice- Admiral  Berkeley.  It 
consisted  of  the  Bellona^  seventy-four,  the  Triumph^ 
seventy-four,  the  Leopard,  fifty,  and  the  Melampus, 
thirty-eight.  Why  it  was  that  the  Leopard  was  se- 
lected for  the  work  which  was  to  follow,  is  easy  to 
surmise.  Vice-Admiral  Berkelev  had  determined, 
at  all  hazards,  to  search  the  American  vessel  to  as- 
certain if  she  had  in  her  complement  those  "  British 
seamen  "  who  had  deserted  from  the  fleet.  Barron's 
refusal  to  allow  a  search  made  of  his  vessel  while 
she  was  in  port  had  been  backed  up  by  the  United 
States  Government.  This  had  exceedingly  exasper- 
ated the  English  commander,  and  he  determined  to 
wait  until  the  Chesapeake  was  at  sea  before  putting 


8  Allen,  of  the  Chesapeake 

his  cherished  project  into  practice.  As  soon  as  the 
Chesapeake  set  sail,  the  Leopard  was  despatched  to 
bring  her  to.  The  Melampus  was  not  sent  because 
she  was  too  near  the  Chesapeake* s  armament,  and 
resistance  might  be  successfully  made  to  any  attempt 
at  high-handed  interference.  Nor  did  he  take  the 
trouble  to  despatch  one  of  his  seventy-fours,  which 
might  have  brought  the  Chesapeake  under  her  guns, 
and  compelled  her  to  submit  by  the  law  that  "  might 
makes  right "  ;  but  the  Leopard  was  sent  because 
she  was  just  large  enough  to  insure  success,  and  yet 
to  humble  the  American  from  the  mere  fact  that  he 
must  inevitably  yield  to  a  vessel  to  which  he  should 
by  rights  make  some  resistance. 

It  was  a  calm  day  with  just  enough  wind  to  move 
the  ships  through  the  water.  The  Leopard^  that  had 
really  got  under  way  first,  overhauled  the  smaller 
vessel,  after  a  few  hours'  sailing.  At  three  o'clock, 
when  forty-five  miles  off  shore,  she  hove  to  across 
her  bows,  and  the  slight  wind  that  had  wafted  them 
from  the  Capes  died  away  almost  at  the  moment. 
Hailing  the  American  ship's  captain,  Humphreys 
stated  that  he  would  like  to  send  despatches  by  her  — 
a  privilege  always  accorded  one  friendly  nation  by 
another. 

On  the  Chesapeake' s  deck,  chatting  with  the  offi- 
cers, were  two  lady  passengers,  who  were  bound 
with  four  or  five  gentlemen  passengers  for  the  Straits. 


Allen,   of  the  Chesapeake  o 

Part  of  the  cabin  had  been  allotted  to  the  use  of  the 
ladies  and  their  maids.  As  they  had  come  on  board 
at  a  late  hour,  their  trunks  and  luggage  were  yet  on 
the  deck.  Amicable  relations  existed  between  Amer- 
ica and  England,  and  there  was  nothing  especially 
unfriendly  in  the  attitude  of  the  English  frigate, 
although  her  action  excited  much  comment  on 
board  the  ship,  and  gave  rise  to  many  surmises. 
Captain  Barron  was  on  the  quarter-deck,  when  news 
was  brought  to  him  that  the  Leopard  had  lowered  a 
boat  with  an  officer  in  it,  and  that  it  was  making 
for  the  Chesapeake' s  side.  The  ladder  was  dropped, 
the  side  boys  were  piped  to  the  gangway,  and  Bar- 
ron himself  stepped  forward  to  greet  the  Lieuten- 
ant, extending  his  hand  and  welcoming  him  gra- 
ciously. Standing  close  by  was  Dr.  John  Bullus,  a 
passenger,  the  newly-appointed  consul  to  the  Island 
of  Minorca,  and  the  naval  agent  to  the  United 
States  naval  squadron  in  the  Mediterranean. 

"  Captain  Humphreys'  comphments,"  began  the 
Lieutenant.  "And  he  requires  the  privilege  of 
searching  this  vessel  for  deserters." 

"  What  are  their  names,  may  I  ask }.  "  inquired 
Barron. 

The  officer  replied,  reading  from  a  list  he  carried 
in  his  hand,  but  describing  the  men  as  subjects  of 
"  His  Majesty,  King  George." 

When  he  had  finished,  Barron  frowned. 


lo  Allen,  of  the  Chesapeake 

"  There  has  been  a  careful  and  full  inquiry  into 
the  cases  of  these  seamen,"  he  said  at  last,  "  and 
after  a  minute  investigation  into  the  circumstances, 
the  British  Minister,  Mr.  Erskine,  is  perfectly  sat- 
isfied on  the  subject,  inasmuch  as  these  men  were 
American  citizens,  impressed  by  officers  of  the  Me- 
lampus.  This  gentleman,"  turning  to  Dr.  BuUus, 
"  our  naval  agent,  is  particularly  acquainted  with  all 
the  facts  and  circumstances  relative  to  the  transac- 
tion. He  received  his  information  from  the  highest 
possible  source." 

"  From  none  less  than  the  Honorable  Robert 
Smith,  the  Secretary  of  our  Navy,"  put  in  Dr.  Bui- 
lus,  "  and  I  am  most  willing  to  go  on  board  the 
Leopard  and  inform  your  commander  to  that  effect, 
Mr.  Erskine  —  " 

"  I  do  not  recognize  Mr.  Erskine  in  this  busi- 
ness," interrupted  the  young  Lieutenant  arrogantly. 
"  Nor  do  I  wish  to  talk  with  any  one  but  Captain 
Barron.     There  is  much  more  to  be  said." 

Barron  took  the  doctor  to  one  side.  "  You  will 
pardon  me  for  placing  you  in  a  position  to  receive 
such  an  insult.     I  did  not  suppose  it  possible." 

"  Make  no  mention  of  it,"  was  the  return  ;  "  I 
understand."     With  that  the  agent  walked  away. 

The  Englishman  could  not  have  helped  noticing 
the  confusion  upon  the  American's  decks.  The  crew 
were  engaged  under  the  direction  of  the  petty  offi- 


Allen,  of  the  Chesapeake  1 1 

cers  in  coiling  away  the  stiff,  new  running-gear  and 
cables,  men  with  paint-pots  and  brushes  were  touch- 
ing up  the  bulwarks  and  paint  work  ;  others  were 
polishing  the  brass  ;  and  it  was  altogether  a  peaceful 
scene  that  struck  his  eye,  even  if  the  presence  of 
the  ladies  had  not  added  the  finishing  touch. 

On  the  quarter-deck,  leaning  carelessly  against 
the  railing,  was  a  young  officer.  Lieutenant  William 
Henry  Allen,  third  in  rank.  He  was  but  twenty- 
three  years  of  age,  a  tall,  boyish-looking  fellow,  with 
beautiful  features,  clear  eye  and  complexion,  and 
ruddy  cheeks.  He  noticed  the  glance  the  English 
officer  had  given,  and  his  face  clouded.  He  was 
near  enough  to  hear  what  passed  between  Barron 
and  the  Lieutenant. 

"  It  is  of  such  importance,"  went  on  the  latter, 
continuing  his  previous  remarks,  "  that  I  should 
desire  to  speak  to  you  in  private,  sir.  If  we  could 
but  retire  to  your  cabin  —  " 

"  With  the  greatest  pleasure  in  the  world,"  Bar- 
ron returned,  indicating  that  the  Lieutenant  should 
precede  him  ;  and  with  that  they  disappeared  from 
view.  Once  seated  at  the  cabin  table,  the  English- 
man broached  the  subject  without  preamble. 

"Commodore  Douglass,"  he  began,  "is  fully 
determined  to  recover  the  deserters  that  are  now 
harbored  on  board  this  ship.  It  is  my  desire  to 
warn  you  that  it  is  best  that  you  submit  to  a  peace- 


12  Allen,  of  the  Chesapeake 

able  search,  and  in  return  my  commanding  officer 
will  permit  you  to  do  the  same,  and  if  any  of  your 
men  are  found  in  our  complement,  you  are  welcome 
to  take  them  with  you.  This  should  bear  great 
weight  in  helping  you  to  form  your  decision.  Here 
is  his  letter." 

Captain  Barron  took  the  paper,  broke  the  seal, 
and  read  as  follows  :  — 

The   Commander  of  H.  B.  Majesty' s  ship,  "  Leopard,''  to  the 
Captain  of  the  U,  S.  ship,  "  Chesapeake  "  ;  — 

At  Sea,  June  22d,  1807. 

The  Captain  of  H.  B.  Majesty's  ship,  Leopard,  has  the 
honor  to  enclose  the  Captain  of  the  U.  S.  ship,  Chesapeake, 
an  order  from  the  Honorable  Vice-Admiral  Berkeley,  Com- 
mander-in-chief of  His  Majesty's  ships  on  the  North 
American  Station,  respecting  some  deserters  from  the  ships 
(therein  mentioned)  under  his  command,  and  supposed  to 
be  now  serving  as  part  crew  of  the  Chesapeake. 

The  Captain  of  the  Leopard  will  not  presume  to  say  any- 
thing in  addition  to  what  the  commander-in-chief  has 
stated,  more  than  to  express  a  hope  that  every  circum- 
stance respecting  them  may  be  adjusted  in  a  manner  that 
the  harmony  subsisting  between  the  two  countries  may 
remain  undisturbed. 

"As  I  before  remarked,"  said  the  Lieutenant, 
noting  that  Barron  had  finished  the  letter,  "  Captain 


Allen,  of  the   Chesapeake  13 

Humphreys  offers  you  the  privilege  of  a  mutual 
search." 

Captain  Barron  smiled.  The  idea  that  he  should 
find  any  of  his  own  men  serving  on  board  King 
George's  vessel  was  rather  amusing. 

"  I  have  missed  none  of  my  crew,"  he  said  quietly, 
"  and,  while  grateful  for  the  privilege,  I  do  not  de- 
sire to  make  use  of  it." 

"  And  your  answer  ?  "   broke  in  the  Lieutenant. 

"You  will  take  this  letter,  that  I  shall  write,  to 
Captain  Humphreys,  give  him  my  best  compliments, 
and  of  course  inform  him  that  I  regret  that  I  can 
neither  avail  myself  of  his  courtesy,  nor  with  honor 
can  I  permit  a  search  to  be  made  of  my  vessel." 

"As  you  decide,"  returned  the  Lieutenant,  sen- 
tentiously. 

For  some  minutes  nothing  was  heard  from  the 
cabin.  Barron  was  busily  employed  in  inditing  the 
epistle,  and  when  it  was  delivered,  the  two  officers 
came  out  together. 

The  following  is  a  copy  of  the  letter  to  Captain 
Humphreys :  — 

To  the  Commander  of  His  Majesty's  ship^  "  Leopard'' :  — 

At  Sea,  June  22d. 

I  know  of  no  such  men  as  you  describe.  The  officers 
that  were  on  the  recruiting  service  for  this  ship  were  par- 
ticularly instructed  by  my  government  through  me  not  to 


14  Allen,  of  the  Chesapeake 

enter  any  deserters  from  H.  B.  Majesty's  ships.  Nor  do 
I  know  of  any  being  here.  I  am  also  instructed  never  to 
permit  the  crew  of  any  ship  under  my  command  to  be 
mustered  by  any  other  than  their  own  officers.  It  is  my 
disposition  to  preserve  harmony,  and  I  hope  this  answer 
to  your  despatch  will  prove  satisfactory. 

J.  Barron. 

The  Englishman  was  escorted  to  the  side,  and 
once  in  his  boat,  his  crew,  as  if  urged  to  special  ex- 
ertion, made  all  haste  to  gain  their  ship. 

Allen  turned  and  spoke  to  Benjamin  Smith,  the 
First  Lieutenant.  "  I  do  not  like  the  look  of 
things,"  he  said. 

"Nor  I,"  responded  Smith,  advancing  toward  the 
Captain,  who  had  stopped  to  speak  to  one  of  the 
lady  passengers.  He  saluted  his  commander,  and 
speaking  in  alow  voice,  he  suggested  the  propriety  of 
asking  the  ladies  to  retire  below,  and  of  clearing 
ship. 

"  Tut,  tut,"  replied  Barron,  carelessly  ;  "  you  are 
over-nervous,  Mr.  Smith.  My  letter  to  Captain 
Humphreys  will  convince  him  that  our  actions  are 
perfectly  proper  and  peaceable,  while  any  move- 
ment to  prove  to  the  contrary  might  lead  him  to 
suppose  that  I  wished  to  precipitate  some  trouble. 
Nothing  will  occur,  I  warrant  you." 

"  Had  we  not  better  open  the  magazines,  sir  ? " 
asked  Captain  Gordon,  coming  up  at  this  moment. 


Allen,  of  the  Chesapeake  15 

"  It  is  not  necessary,"  Barron  returned,  and  once 
more  joined  the  ladies. 

The  keys  of  the  magazine  are  always  kept  in  the 
possession  of  the  ship's  captain,  and  by  him  they 
are  handed  to  the  gunner,  and  are  never  delivered 
to  any  one  else.  As  was  customary,  the  Chesapeake' s 
broadside  guns  were  loaded  and  shotted,  for  a  ship 
generally  sailed  with  them  in  this  state  of  prepara- 
tion ;  but  they  were  not  primed,  and  but  thirteen 
powder  horns  had  been  made  ready,  and  they  were 
locked  safe  in  the  magazine.  Around  the  foremast 
and  in  the  cable  tiers  were  plenty  of  wads  and 
sponges,  and  ready  on  deck,  before  each  gun,  was  a 
box  of  canister.  But  there  were  no  matches  pre- 
pared for  service. 

The  peaceful  work  went  on.  The  crew  continued 
touching  up  the  paint  work,  and  in  the  sunlight 
the  brass  shone  brightly.  From  the  galley  came  the 
clatter  of  dishes,  and  from  below  came  the  sound  of 
a  sea-song,  chanted  by  one  of  the  men  off  watch. 

Barron  called  Captain  Gordon  to  him  on  the 
quarter-deck.  "  Captain,'*  said  he,  "  I  think  that 
fellow  yonder  hailed  us  a  moment  since ;  I  could 
not  make  out  what  he  said  however.  Perhaps  we 
had  better  send  the  men  to  their  stations  quietly." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  returned  the  Captain,  and  he 
strolled  forward  leisurely,  for  he,  like  Barron,  sus- 
pected no  surprise. 


1 6  Allen,  of  the  Chesapeake 

Allen  had  left  the  quarter-deck  and  had  stepped 
forward  to  speak  to  Mr.  Brooks,  the  saiUng-master. 
They  stopped  at  the  entrance  to  the  galley,  which 
was  in  a  caboose  or  deckhouse.  Suddenly  Lieuten- 
ant Smith  looked  out  across  the  water  at  the  Leopard^ 
that  was  swinging  lazily  along  at  about  the  distance 
of  a  pistol  shot. 

Surely  he  could  not  be  mistaken.  The  muzzle 
of  one  of  the  forward  guns  was  slewing  around  to 
bear  upon  the  ship.  Probably  they  were  just  ex- 
ercising; but  there!  another  followed  suit,  and  then 
three  more,  as  if  moved  by  one  command.  His 
face  blanched.  What  could  it  mean?  But  one 
thing !  He  whirled  and  saw  that  Barron  had  gone 
below  to  his  cabin.  Rushing  to  the  ladies,  he 
grasped  them  by  the  arms  and  having  hardly  time 
to  make  explanations,  he  hurried  them  to  the  com- 
panionway. 

"  Below  as  far  as  you  can  go !  Down  to  the 
hold  !  "  he  cried.     "  Don't  stop  ;  don  t  talk  !  " 

As  he  spoke  he  could  scarce  believe  his  eyes.  A 
burst  of  white  smoke,  with  a  vivid  red  dash  of  flame 
from  the  centre,  broke  from  the  forward  gun  on  the 
Leopards  main  deck.  There  was  a  crash  just  abaft 
the  break  of  the  forecastle.  A  great  splinter  fully 
six  feet  long  whirled  across  the  deck.  The  shock 
was  felt  throughout  the  ship.  A  man  who  had 
been  painting  the  bulwarks  fell  to  his  knees,  arose. 


Allen,  of  the  Chesapeake  17 

and  fell  again.  His  shoulder  and  one  arm  were 
almost  torn  away;  his  blood  mingled  with  the  paint 
from  the  overturned  pot.  He  shrieked  out  in  fright 
and  agony. 

"  Beat  to  quarters ! "    roared   Lieutenant   Smith. 

Up  from  below  the  men  came  tumbling.  Barron 
ran  from  his  cabin,  with  his  face  as  white  as  death. 
"  To  quarters  !  '*  he  roared,  echoing  the  Lieuten- 
ant's order. 

Everything  was  confusion.  The  men  gathered 
at  the  useless  guns.  The  belated  drummer  began 
to  sound  the  roll.  Hither  and  thither  rushed  offi- 
cers and  midshipmen.  The  green  hands  stood 
gawking  about ;  some  overcome  by  fear  and  the 
suddenness  of  danger,  plunged  down  the  compan- 
ionway.  Where  were  the  matches?  Where  were 
the  priming  horns  ?  Barron  turned  to  go  to  his 
cabin  for  the  keys  to  the  magazine.  They  were 
locked  in  the  drawer  of  his  heavy  desk,  and  now 
there  came  another  shot.  It  struck  fair  in  the  bul- 
warks, and  the  hammocks  and  their  contents  were 
thrown  out  of  the  nettings.  Three  men  were 
wounded  by  the  shower  of  splinters.  And  not  a 
shot  was  iired  yet  in  return. 

"  Matches  !  give  us  the  matches  !  "  roared  some 
of  the  men  at  the  guns,  as  they  tried  to  bring  their 
harmless  weapons  to  bear  upon  the  Englishman. 

A  deadly  broadside  struck  the  helpless  Chesapeake, 


1 8  Allen,  of  the  Chesapeake 

Blocks  and  spars  fell  from  aloft.  Suddenly  from 
the  entrance  of  the  deckhouse  ran  a  hatless  figure. 
Men  made  way  for  him.  It  was  Lieutenant  Allen! 
His  jaws  were  set  and  his  eyes  were  glaring.  Toss- 
ing between  his  hands,  as  a  juggler  keeps  a  ball  in 
the  air,  was  a  red  hot,  flaming  coal. 

"  Here,  sir ! "  cried  one  of  the  gunner's  mates. 
"  This  one's  primed,  sir.  For  God's  sake,  here, 
sir  ! 

Just  as  Allen  reached  forward,  a  shot  from  the 
Leopard  struck  the  opening  of  the  port.  The  man 
who  had  spoken  was  hit  full  in  the  breast.  Five  of 
tne  eight  surrounding  the  piece  fell  to  the  deck, 
wounded  by  the  murderous  splinters.  But  Allen 
dropped  his  flaming  coal  upon  the  breech  of  the 
gun,  and  pushed  into  place  with  his  scorched  and 
blackened  fingers. 

It  was  the  lone  reply  to  the  Englishman's  das- 
tardly gun  practice  !  For  fifteen  minutes  the  Leop- 
ard fired  steadily  by  divisions. 

Covered  with  blood  that  had  been  dashed  over 
him  from  the  body  of  the  man  the  round  shot  had 
killed,  Allen  ran  aft.  The  ship  was  full  of  groans 
and  shrieks  and  cursing.  Forth  from  the  cabin 
came  Barron.  He  looked  an  aged,  heart-broken 
man.  When  he  saw  the  young  Lieutenant,  he 
stepped  back  a  pace  in  horror.  The  scene  of  car- 
nage on  the  deck  unnerved  him. 


"It  was   Lieutenant  Allen!" 


Allen,  of  the  Chesapeake  19 

"  The  keys  !  the  keys  !  '*  shrieked  Allen,  almost 
springing  at  his  commander's  throat.  "  Let  us 
fight,  if  we  must  die  !  " 

The  thought  that  flashed  through  Barron's  mind 
must  have  been  the  uselessness  of  resistance,  the 
terrible  death  and  destruction,  and  the  inevitable  loss 
that  would  be  sure  to  follow.  Almost  resting  him- 
self upon  the  group  of  officers,  he  raised  both  hands 
above  his  head,  the  palms  open  and  outstretched. 

"  Haul  down  the  flag  !  "  he  ordered  faintly. 

A  sailor,  standing  near  by,  caught  the  words  and 
springing  to  the  halliards,  down  it  came,  tangling 
almost  into  a  knot,  as  if  to  hide  its  folds.  The 
Leopard  ceased  her  murderous  work ;  but  the  con- 
fusion was  great  on  board  the  Chesapeake.  Men 
wept  like  babies.  Wounded  men  were  being  car- 
ried below.  Curses  and  imprecations  on  the  Eng- 
lish flag  and  on  the  distant  ship  rent  the  air.  Many 
openly  cursed  their  own  commander. 

"Tell  him  to  come  here,  and  look  at  this!"  cried 
an  old  sailor,  pointing  to  one  dead  body  on  the  deck. 
"  Then  will  he  lower  the  flag  ?  Give  us  a  chance, 
for  God's  sake,  to  fight  like  men  ! " 

Barron  had  hurried  into  the  cabin. 

"  Send  for  the  officers  of  the  ship."  They  were 
all  there  to  a  man,  except  the  surgeon,  who  was 
busy  down  below.  "Your  opinions,  gentlemen," 
he    faltered.      There  was    not   a   sound.      Captain 


20  Allen,  of  the  Chesapeake 

Gordon  was  silent.  Tears  were  rolling  down  the 
First  Lieutenant's  cheeks.  He  tried  to  speak,  and 
could  not. 

"  Sir,  you  have  disgraced  us  !  " 

It  was  Allen  speaking.  To  save  his  life  he  could 
not  have  helped  blurting  out  what  he  felt  to  be  the 
truth.  Barron  spread  out  his  arms  weakly,  then 
dropped  his  head  into  his  hands.  It  was  then  pre- 
sumed that  he  was  wounded  also,  for  blood  was 
running  down  his  wrists.     They  left  him  there. 

What  use  the  rest  of  the  story  ?  The  search  was 
made,  four  men  were  taken.  All  claimed  to  be 
Americans ;  they  were  prepared  to  prove  it.  Captain 
Humphreys  refused  to  accept  the  surrender  of  the 
vessel.  Barron,  hitherto  known  as  brave  and  capa- 
ble, was  dishonored  and  relieved  from  all  command, 
was  sentenced  to  ^yq.  years  retirement  without  pay. 
Oh  yes,  the  British  Admiral  was  sentenced  also.  Of 
course  the  Board  of  Admiralty  could  not  recognize 
such  doings.  They  even  made  apologies  and  all 
the  rest  of  it,  and  returned  two  of  the  men,  all  there 
were  left,  for  one  was  hanged  and  another  died. 
They  sentenced  their  Vice-Admiral  with  a  smile  of 
covert  approval,  and  they  promoted  him  shortly 
afterwards. 

The  unfortunate  officers  who  had  been  innocent 
parties  to  the  surrender  felt  keenly  their  position. 
They  could  not  go  through  explanations  to  every 


Allen,  of  the  Chesapeake  21 

one.  They  became  morbidly  sensitive  upon  the 
subject.  No  less  then  seven  duels  grew  out  of  the 
affair,  and  Allen,  who  had  fired  the  gun,  wrote  to 
his  father  thus  :  "  If  I  am  acquitted  honorably,  if 
Captain  Barron  is  condemned,  you  may  see  me 
again.  If  not,  never.'*  —  Poor  Allen  !  No  dis- 
grace shall  ever  be  attached  to  his  name.  He 
died  of  wounds  received  while  bravely  fighting  on 
the  deck  of  his  own  little  vessel,  the  Argus,  some 
years  later,  and  he  was  buried  in  foreign  soil  by  a 
guard  of  honor  of  his  enemies,  who  appreciated  his 
bravery  and  worth. 

As  for  the  Chesapeake,  her  bad  name  clung  to  her. 
And  of  her  end,  there  is  much  more  to  tell  that  will 
be  told.  But  "  Remember  the  Chesapeake  "  became 
a  watchword.  This  was  the  beginning,  that  was  the 
beginning  of  the  end. 


REUBEN   JAMES,    ABLE   SEAMAN 


REUBEN    JAMES,   ABLE    SEAMAN 

THIS  is  a  story  that  has  oft  been  told  be- 
fore. But  in  history,  if  a  man  becomes 
famous  by  one  act,  and  be  that  act  some- 
thing worth  recording,  it  will  stand  being  told  about 
again.  So  if  this  be  an  old  yarn,  this  is  the  only 
apology  for  the  spinning,  and  here  goes  for  it :  — 

Reuben  James  may  be  well  remembered  by  men 
who  are  yet  living,  for  he  died  but  some  fifty  years 
ago.  He  was  born  in  the  state  of  Delaware,  of  the 
good  old  "  poor  but  honest "  stock.  Sailor  boy 
and  man  was  Reuben,  with  a  vocabulary  limited  to 
the  names  of  things  on  shipboard  and  the  verbs  to 
pull  and  haul.  He  went  to  sea  at  the  age  of  thir- 
teen years,  and  in  1797,  when  only  a  lad  of  sixteen, 
although  he  had  already  made  three  or  four  cruises 
of  some  length,  he  was  captured  by  a  French  priva- 
teer during  the  quasi-war  between  this  country  and 
the  citizen  Republic  of  France.  Upon  his  libera- 
tion, Reuben  made  up  his  mind  to  serve  no  longer 
in  the  merchant  service,  but  to  ship  as  soon  as 
possible  in  the  best  frigate  that  flew  our  flag ;  and 
as  his  imprisonment  lasted  but  some  five  or  six 
months,  he   soon   found   opportunity   for   revenge 

25 


26  Reuben  James,  Able  Seaman 

Upon  returning  to  the  States  he  was  fortunate 
enough  to  find  the  old  Constellation  in  port  picking 
up  her  crew.  This  was  in  the  year  1799,  and  the 
old  ship  was  then  in  command  of  the  intrepid  Com- 
modore Truxtun,  and  he  was  her  commander  when 
she  gave  such  a  drubbing  to  the  French  frigates 
Insurgente  and  Vengeance,  which  taught  the  citizens 
a  lesson,  and  brought  to  an  end,  as  much  as  any- 
other  thing,  the  ridiculous  situation  of  two  nations 
not  actually  at  war  fighting  one  another  at  sea 
whenever  they  met.  In  these  actions  young  James 
distinguished  himself  He  was  by  nature  fearless 
to  the  verge  of  recklessness,  and  he  was  probably 
in  trouble,  on  account  of  his  devil-may-care  propen- 
sities, more  than  once.  In  1804,  he  sailed  in  the 
frigate  United  States  to  the  Mediterranean,  and  when 
young  Stephen  Decatur  sailed  into  the  harbor  and 
successfully  destroyed  the  captured  frigate  Philadel- 
phia, which  the  Tripolitans  had  anchored  beneath 
their  batteries,  Reuben  James  was  one  of  the  first 
to  volunteer.  He  returned  from  the  successful 
accomplishment  of  the  design,  impressed  with  the 
young  leader's  courage  and  magnetism,  and  as  often 
is  the  case  between  a  beloved  officer  and  the  man 
who  serves  under  him,  there  grew  up  in  the  young 
sailor's  heart  —  he  and  Decatur  were  about  the  same 
age  —  a  wild  desire  to  do  something  to  prove  his 
devotion.     The  affection  of  brave  men  for  one  an- 


Reuben  James,  Able  Seaman  27 

other  leads  to  deeds  of  noble  self-sacrifice,  and 
Reuben  James's  chance  was  to  come.  Every  time 
that  he  was  assigned  to  boat  duty  in  the  many  skir- 
mishes and  little  actions,  before  the  harbor  of  Trip- 
oli, Reuben  succeeded  in  going  in  Decatur's  boat, 
and  one  day  to  his  delight  he  was  promoted  to  be 
cockswain,  which  must  have  proved  that  Decatur's 
keen  eye  had  noticed  him. 

On  the  3d  of  August,  1804,  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, the  orders  were  sent  throughout  Commodore 
Preble's  fleet  to  prepare  for  a  general  attack  to  take 
place  as  soon  as  it  was  broad  daylight.  The  Amer- 
ican force  consisted  of  the  Constitution  and  a  number 
of  gunboats  of  the  same  style  and  size  as  those 
composing  the  Tripolitan  forces.  Everything  was 
ready  on  time,  but  the  lack  of  wind  prevented  the 
action  from  taking  place  until  late  in  the  afternoon, 
when  the  Constitution,  preceded  by  three  of  the 
American  gunboats,  entered  the  harbor.  There 
were  nine  of  the  Bey's  crack  vessels,  composing  the 
eastern  wing,  waiting  not  far  from  shore.  The  three 
Yankee  gunboats  bore  down  upon  them  without 
hesitation,  in  gallant  style.  In  slap-bang  fashion, 
they  sailed  right  into  the  Tripolitans  and  captured, 
cutlass  in  hand,  the  three  leading  ones.  The  other 
;  six  fled  and  came  plashing  up  the  harbor,  working 
their  heavy  sweeps  for  all  they  were  worth. 

A  few  minutes  after  their  retreat,  one  of  the  other 


28  Reuben  James,  Able  Seaman 

vessels  that,  to  all  appearances,  had  surrendered, 
broke  away  and  started  up  the  harbor,  scrambling 
along  as  fast  as  she  could  go.  Decatur  in  his  small 
boat  was  not  far  away.  There  was  a  mist  of  battle 
smoke  hanging  over  the  water,  and  for  an  instant 
he  did  not  notice  what  was  going  on ;  but  when  he 
did  hear  what  had  happened,  all  the  fierce  daring 
in  his  nature  was  aroused,  and  mingled  with  the 
anger  and  desire  for  revenge,  it  completely  swept 
him  away.  He  was  told  that  the  Tripolitan  com- 
mander, who  had  just  made  his  escape,  had  treach- 
erously risen  upon  the  prize  crew  sent  on  board  of 
him,  after  he  had  struck  his  flag,  and  with  his  own 
hands  had  killed  Decatur's  beloved  brother  James. 
When  this  news  reached  him,  Decatur  did  not  falter. 

"  After  him  !  "  he  cried  to  his  crew.  "  Put  me 
alongside  of  him  !  " 

"We'll  put  you  there,  sir,"  said  Reuben  James, 
who  was  at  the  tiller.  And  out  of  the  smoke  into 
the  plain  view  of  the  guns  of  the  battery  and  also  of 
the  American  captives,  who  had  viewed  the  whole 
affair  from  the  window  of  their  prison,  the  little  boat 
started  in  the  wake  of  the  felucca,  whose  force  of 
men  outnumbered  hers  by  three  to  one.  They 
gained  at  every  jump,  and  in  a  few  minutes  they 
had  run  their  little  boat  alongside,  thrown  down 
their  oars,  and  to  a  man  had  scrambled  on  board  the 
Tripolitan.      Decatur  had  set  his  eye  upon  a  red- 


Reuben  James,  Able  Seaman  29 

turbaned  figure  that  he  knew  to  be  the  leader. 
This  man  had  killed  his  brother !  Almost  before 
the  bowman  had  laid  hold  of  the  enemy's  gunwale, 
he  had  made  a  flying  leap  off  it  and  gained  the 
deck.  Ignoring  every  risk,  scarcely  pausing  to  ward 
off  the  many  blows  that  were  aimed  at  him,  he 
made  straight  for  the  man  in  the  red  turban.  The 
pirate  was  armed  with  a  long  spear  and  one  of  those 
deadly  curved  scimitars,  sharp  as  steel  can  stand  it, 
capable  of  lopping  off  a  limb  at  a  single  stroke;  draw- 
ing back  he  aimed  a  full-length  thrust  as  soon  as 
Decatur  confronted  him,  for  he  must  have  read  his 
fate  in  the  determined  look  on  the  latter's  face. 
Decatur  dodged  skilfully  and  tried  to  come  to  closer 
quarters ;  but  the  Tripolitan  by  great  agility  suc- 
ceeded in  keeping  out  of  the  way,  and  once  more  he 
lunged.  This  time  as  Decatur  parried  his  sword- 
blade  broke  off  at  the  hilt ;  dropping  it,  he  laid 
hold  of  his  enemy's  spear,  and  in  the  wrestle  for  its 
possession,  he  succeeded  in  tripping  up  the  Turk, 
and  both  fell  upon  the  deck.  The  red-turbaned  one, 
freeing  one  hand,  drew  a  dagger  from  his  waist- 
cloth,  and  just  as  he  was  about  to  plunge  it  into  the 
body  of  the  young  American,  Decatur  managed  to 
draw  a  small  pistol,  and  lifting  himself  on  his  elbow, 
blew  off  the  top  of  his  opponent's  head. 

Revenge   was  his.       But  what  about  our   friend 
Reuben  ?      The  only  reason  that  Decatur  had  not 

I 


30  Reuben  James,  Able  Seaman 

been  killed  in  the  early  part  of  the  struggle  by  the 
many  blows  that  were  aimed  at  him — for  the  Ameri- 
can boarding  party  numbered  but  twelve  all  told  — 
was  the  fact  that  seaman  Reuben  James  was  close 
behind  him,  warding  off  blow  after  blow.  Disdain- 
ing to  protect  himself,  his  right  arm  was  rendered 
useless,  so  that  he  had  to  shift  his  cutlass  to  his  left 
hand.  He  was  slashed  seven  times  about  the  body. 
A  cut  on  the  shoulder  made  him  drop  his  weapon, 
and  just  at  this  moment  he  saw  that  Decatur  was 
lying  upon  the  deck  with  his  foeman  over  him. 
Behind  him  a  sinewy  man  was  aiming  a  deadly 
blow  directly  downward.  Reuben  James  sprang 
forward.  His  right  arm  was  useless  and  his  left 
almost  so.  There  was  nothing  he  could  interpose 
between  that  deadly  blow  and  his  beloved  com- 
mander but  his  life  !  Trying  weakly  to  push  back 
the  TripoHtan,  he  leaned  forward  swiftly  and  caught 
the  blow  from  the  scimitar  on  his  own  head.  It 
fractured  his  skull,  and  he  fell  insensible  to  the  deck. 

But  a  Yankee  sailor  is  a  hard  man  to  kill  —  in 
three  weeks  cockswain  James  was  at  his  post  again. 
His  recovery  was  no  doubt  due  to  his  wonderful 
constitution  and  his  youth. 

As  soon  as  the  war  with  Great  Britain  was  de- 
clared, Reuben  made  all  haste  to  join  his  old  com- 
mander, and  he  served  in  the  frigate  United  States 
when  she  captured  the  Macedonian^  and  afterwards 


1 


"  Reuben  James  sprang  forward. 


Reuben  James,  Able  Seaman  31 

in  the  President  when  she  took  the  Endymion.  In 
both  actions  he  got  as  near  Decatur  as  he  could,  and 
in  the  last-named  conflict  he  received  three  wounds. 
Although  suffering  greatly,  he  refused  to  leave  the 
deck  until  after  the  President  had  struck  her  flag  to 
the  squadron  that  captured  her,  whereupon  Reuben 
James  was  carried  below  weeping  —  not  from  pain 
or  anguish,  but  from  sheer  mortification  and  grief. 

At  Decatur's  funeral  he  wept  again,  honest  fellow, 
and  whenever  he  came  to  port  he  would  visit  his 
commander's  grave.  Reuben  was  in  actual  service 
until  the  year  1836,  when  he  arrived  in  Washington 
for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  a  pension.  He  was 
suffering  very  much  at  this  time  from  an  old  musket- 
shot  wound  that  had  caused  a  disease  of  the  bone 
of  his  leg.  It  was  exceedingly  painful  and  becom- 
ing dangerous.  After  consultation  the  doctors  or- 
dered amputation,  and  as  he  lay  in  the  hospital  the 
decision  was  announced  to  him.  With  his  old 
indifference  to  danger,  and  his  reckless  spirit,  Reu- 
ben replied  in  the  following  words :  — 

"  Doctor,  you  are  the  captain,  sir.  Fire  away ; 
but  I  don't  think  it  is  shipshape  to  put  me  under 
jury  masts  when  I  have  just  come  into  harbor." 

The  day  after  the  operation  Reuben  was  very 
low,  and  it  was  thought  that  he  had  but  a  few  hours 
to  live.  The  old  sailor  himself  declared  that  he 
had  reached  the  bitter  end  of  his   rope,   appeared 


32  Reuben  James,  Able  Seaman 

resigned  to  his  fate,  and  begged  the  surgeon  to 
"  ease  him  off  handsomely  while  he  was  about  it." 

"  Reuben,"  said  the  doctor,  "  we  have  concluded 
that  we  will  give  you  a  good  drink  and  allow  you 
to  name  it.  What  will  you  have,  brown  stout  or 
brandy  toddy  ? " 

"  I  s*pose  I  won*t  take  another  for  a  long  time, 
sir,"  Reuben  responded,  with  a  twinkle  in  his 
eye.  "  So  just  s'pose  you  give  us  both  ;  which  one 
first  it  doesn't  much  matter." 

He  prided  himself  that  he  had  been  in  ten  fights 
and  as  many  "  skrimedges,"  and  as  he  was  a  favor- 
ite character,  he  was  allowed  to  celebrate  each  in 
turn  as  they  came  around,  so  his  happy  days  were 
many.  There  was  one  subject  to  which,  however, 
no  one  could  ever  refer  —  Decatur's  sad  and  un- 
timely end.  Always  in  his  heart  Reuben  bore  a 
deep  and  lasting  love,  and  an  ever-living  admiration 
for  the  man  whose  life  he  had  saved ;  and  those 
friends  of  the  young  Commodore  always  treated  the 
old  sailor  with  the  greatest  of  deference.  Had  De- 
catur lived,  it  is  safe  to  state  that  wherever  he  went 
Reuben  would  have  gone  also,  and  if  the  latter  had 
not  walked  bare-headed  and  weeping  at  his  officer's 
funeral ;  and  had  it  been  the  other  way  about,  with 
Reuben  being  put  to  earth,  Decatur  would  have 
been  there,  if  possible,  hat  in  hand,  to  shed  a  tear  of 
sorrow. 


I 


THE    MEN    BEHIND    THE   TIMES 


THE    MEN    BEHIND    THE    TIMES 

OUT  of  the  north  they  came  in  their  grimy, 
bluff-bowed  ships  —  the  men  behind  the 
times  !  Three  years  away  from  home ; 
three  years  outside  the  movement  of  human  gov- 
ernment, of  family  life,  ignorant  of  the  news  of  the 
world. 

The  years  1811  and  18 12  were  remarkable  ones 
in  the  annals  of  the  whaling  industry  ;  vessels  that 
had  been  cruising  for  months  unrewarded  managed 
to  fill  their  holds,  and  now,  deep  laden,  they  were 
returning  from  the  whaling  grounds,  singly  or  often 
in  companies  of  a  half-score  or  more.  They  were 
ugly  vessels,  broad  and  clumsy,  with  heavy  spars 
and  great  wooden  davits.  They  stenched  of  blubber 
and  whale  oil,  and  they  oozed  in  the  warm  sun  as 
they  labored  southward,  out  of  the  realms  of  ice 
and  night  into  the  rolling  waters  of  the  Pacific. 
They  buffeted  the  tempestuous  weather  of  the  Horn 
and  climbed  slowly  northward  along  the  coasts  of 
the  Western  hemisphere. 

Saihng  together  homeward  bound  for  New  Eng- 
land in  the  fall   of  the   year  was   a   fleet  of  these 

35 


^6  The  Men  behind  the  Times 

Arctic  whalers  —  no  matter  their  exact  number  or 
their  destinations.  For  the  beginning,  let  it  suffice 
that  the  vessel  farthest  to  the  west  was  the  good 
ship  Blazing  Star  of  New  Bedford. 

Captain  Ezra  Steele,  her  skipper,  had  made  a 
mental  calculation,  and  he  knew  exactly  the  profits 
that  would  accrue  to  him  from  the  sale  of  the 
barrels  of  sperm  oil  that  now  filled  the  deep  hold 
of  his  ship.  It  was  his  custom  in  fine  weather  to 
count  these  barrels  and  to  go  over  all  these  calcu- 
lations again  and  again.  He  was  a  part  owner  of 
the  Blazing  Star^  and  he  had  made  up  his  mind 
exactly  what  he  was  going  to  do  with  the  proceeds 
of  this  cruise.  He  knew  that  just  about  this  time 
of  the  year,  his  wife  and  many  other  wives,  and  some 
who  hoped  to  be,  would  be  watching  for  the  sight  of 
welcome  sails.  The  Captain  wondered  if  his  daugh- 
ter Jennie  would  accept  young  Amos  Jordan's  offer  of 
marriage.  He  and  Amos  had  talked  it  over.  Amos 
was  his  first  mate  now,  and  the  Captain  had  been 
thinking  of  staying  at  home  and  sending  the  young 
man  out  in  command  of  the  Blazing  Stars  next  cruise  ; 
but  perhaps  Jennie,  who  had  a  will  of  her  own,  had 
married  ;  or  who  knows  what  might  have  occurred  ? 
It  is  now  late  October  of  the  year  1812,  and  a  great 
deal  can  happen  in  three  years,  be  it  recorded. 

Captain    Ezra   had    all   the   sail    that    she    could 
carry   crowded    on    the   stiflF,   stubby   yards   of  his 


The  Men  behind  the  Times  37 

vessel.  He  was  anxious  to  get  home  again,  but  the 
wind  had  been  baffling  for  some  days,  hauling  about 
first  one  way,  then  another.  Now,  however,  they 
were  getting  well  to  the  north,  and  the  continued 
mildness  of  the  air  showed  that  probably  they  had 
entered  the  waters  of  the  Gulf  Stream.  The  Captain 
was  dressed  in  a  long-tailed  coat  and  yellow  cloth 
breeches  thrust  into  heavy  cowhide  boots  that  had 
become  almost  pulpy  from  constant  soaking  in  the 
sperm  oil.  He  noiselessly  paced  the  deck,  now  and 
then  looking  over  the  side  to  see  how  she  was  going. 

The  old  Blazing  Star  creaked  ahead  with  about 
the  same  motion  and  general  noise  of  it  that  an  ox- 
cart makes  when  swaying  down  a  hill.  From  the 
quarter-deck  eight  or  ten  other  vessels,  every  one 
lumbering  along  under  a  press  of  stained  and  much- 
patched  canvas,  could  be  seen,  and  a  few  were 
almost  within  hailing  distance.  All  were  deep  laden ; 
every  one  had  been  successful. 

"  Waal,"  said  the  Captain  to  himself,  "  if  this  wind 
holds  as  'tis,  we'll  make  Bedford  Hght  together  in 
abaout  three  weeks." 

The  nearest  vessel  to  the  Blazing  Star  was  the 
old  Elijah  Mason.  She  had  made  so  many  last 
voyages,  and  had  been  condemned  so  many  times, 
and  then  tinkered  up  and  sent  out  again,  that  it 
always  was  a  matter  of  surprise  to  the  worthy  gentle- 
men who  owned  her  when  she  came  halting  along 


38  The  Men  behind  the  Times 

with  her  younger  sisters  at  the  end  of  a  successful 
cruise.  Her  present  captain,  Samuel  Tobin  Dewey, 
who  had  sailed  a  letter  of  marque  during  the  Revo- 
lution, was  a  bosom  friend  of  Captain  Steele.  Many 
visits  had  they  exchanged,  and  many  a  bottle  of 
rare  old  Medford  rum  had  they  broached  together. 
As  Captain  Ezra  turned  the  side,  he  saw  that  they 
were  lowering  a  boat  from  the  Elijah  Mason,  and 
that  a  thick,  short  figure  was  clambering  down  to  it. 
So  he  stepped  to  the  skylight,  and  leaning  over, 
shouted  into  the  cabin. 

"  Hey,  Amos  !  "  he  called,  "  Captain  Dewey's 
comin'  over  to  take  dinner  with  us.  Tell  that  lazy 
Portugee  to  make  some  puddin'  and  tell  him  to  get 
some  bread  scouse  ready  for  the  crew.  We'll  keep 
'em  here  for  comp'ny  for  our  lads." 

In  a  few  minutes  he  had  welcomed  Captain 
Dewey,  who,  although  almost  old  enough  to  re- 
member when  his  ship  had  made  her  maiden  voy- 
age, was  ruddy  and  stout  in  his  timbers  and  keen  of 
voice  and  eye.  But  by  the  time  that  a  man  has  been 
three  years  cooped  up  in  one  vessel,  his  conver- 
sational powers  are  about  at  their  lowest  ebb ;  every 
one  knows  all  of  the  other's  favorite  yarns  by  heart, 
and  so  the  greeting  was  short  and  the  conversation 
in  the  cabin  of  the  Blazing  Star  was  limited.  It  was 
with  a  feeling  of  relief  that  the  captains  heard  the 
news  brought  to  them  by  a  red-headed,  unshaven 


The  Men  behind  the  Times  39 

boy  of  seventeen,  that  there  was  a  strange  sail  in 
sight  to  the  northwest.  The  two  skippers  came  on 
deck  at  once.  About  four  miles  away  they  could 
make  out  a  vessel  heaving  up  and  down,  her  sails 
flapping  and  idle.  For,  a  common  occurrence  at  sea, 
she  lay  within  a  streak  of  calm.  Her  presence  had 
probably  been  kept  from  being  known  before  by 
the  slight  mist  that  hung  over  the  sea  to  the  west 
and  north.  The  long,  easy  swells  were  ruffled  by 
the  slight  wind  that  filled  the  sails  of  the  whaling 
fleet,  and  were  dimpled  to  a  darker  color.  But 
where  the  stranger  lay  there  was  a  smooth  even 
path  of  oily  calm.  Beyond  her  some  miles  the 
wind  was  blowing  in  an  opposite  direction.  She  lay 
between  the  breezes,  not  a  breath  touching  her. 

"  What  d'ye  make  her  out  to  be,  Ezra  ? "  asked 
Captain  Dewey,  his  fingers  twitching  anxiously  in 
his  eagerness  to  take  hold  of  the  glass  through  which 
Captain  Steele  was  squinting. 

"  Man-o'-war,  brig,"  responded  the  taller  man. 
"  Sure's  you're  born,  sir." 

"You're  jest  right,"  responded  Dewey,  after  he 
had  taken  aim  with  the  telescope.  "  I'll  bet  her 
captain's  mad,  seein'  us  carryin'  this  breeze,  an'  she 
in  the  doldrums.  We'll  pass  by  her  within  three 
mile,  I  reckon.  She  may  hang  on  thar  all  day  long 
an'  never  git  this  slant  of  wind  at  all.  Wonder 
what  she's  doin  aout  here,  anyhow?" 


40  The  Men  behind  the  Times 

In  about  ten  minutes  Captain  Ezra  picked  up  the 
glass  again.  "  Hello  !  "  he  said.  "  By  Dondy  ! 
they've  lowered  away  a  boat,  an'  they  are  rowin'  off 
as  if  to  meet  us.  Wonder  what's  the  row  ?  "  A 
tiny  speck  could  be  seen  with  the  naked  eye,  mak- 
ing out  from  the  stretch  of  quiet  water.  The  crew 
of  the  Blazing  Star  had  sighted  her  also,  and  at  the 
prospect  of  something  unusual  to  break  the  monot- 
ony, had  lined  the  bulwarks.  Suddenly  as  the  boat 
lifted  into  the  sunlight  on  the  top  of  a  wave,  there 
came  a  flash  and  a  glint  of  some  bright  metal.  In 
a  few  minutes  it  showed  again.  Captain  Ezra 
picked  up  the  glass. 

"  By  gum  !  "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  that  boat's  chuck 
full  of  men  all  armed.  What  in  the  name  of 
Tophet  can  it  mean  ?  " 

"  Dunno  —  I'd  keep  off  a  little,"  suggested 
Captain  Dewey. 

The  helmsman  gave  the  old  creaking  wheel  a 
spoke  or  two  in  response  to  the  Captain's  order. 

"  She's  baound  to  meet  us  anyhow,"  put  in  the 
lanky  skipper.     "  What  had  we  better  dew  ?  " 

"  Got  any  arms  on  board  ? "  inquired  Dewey. 
"  Look  suspicshus.  Think  I's  better  be  gettin' 
back  to  my  old  hooker,"  he  added  half  to  himself. 

Amos  Jordan,  the  first  mate,  was  standing  close 
by.     "  I  reckon  we've  got  some  few,"  he  said. 

"  Git  'em  aout,"  ordered  the  Captain,  laconically ; 


The  Men  behind  the  Times  41 

"and,  Cap'n   Sam,    you   stay   here  with  us,   won't 

ye: 

Amos  started  forward.  In  a  few  minutes  he  had 
produced  four  old  muskets,  and  a  half-dozen  rusty 
cutlasses.  But  there  were  deadlier  weapons  yet  on 
board,  of  which  there  were  a  plenty.  Keen-pointed 
lances,  that  had  done  to  death  many  a  great  whale ; 
and  harpoons,  with  slender  shanks  and  heads  sharp 
as  razors.  And  there  were  strong  arms  which  knew 
well  how  to  use  them.  The  Captain  went  into  the 
cabin  and  came  back  with  three  great,  clumsy 
pistols.  One  he  slipped  under  his  long-tailed  coat, 
and  the  two  others  he  gave  to  Captain  Dewey  and 
Amos  Jordan.  There  were  twenty  men  in  the 
Blazing  Stars  own  crew.  The  visitors  from  the 
old  whaler  added  ^VQ  more,  and  with  the  three 
mates  and  the  two  captains,  five  more  again.  In 
all  there  were  thirty  men  prepared  to  receive  the 
mysterious  rowboat,  and  receive  her  warmly  should 
anything  be  belligerent  in  her  mission. 

"  I  dunno  what  they  want,"  said  Captain  Ezra ; 
"but  to  my  mind  it  don't  look  right.'* 

"  Jesso,  jesso,"  assented  Captain  Samuel. 

A  plan  was  agreed  upon  ;  a  very  simple  one. 
The  men  were  to  keep  well  hid  behind  the  bul- 
warks, and  if  the  small  boat  proved  unfriendly,  she 
was  to  be  warned  off  the  side,  and  if  she  persisted 
in   trying  to  board,  then  they  were  to  give   her  a 


42  The  Men  behind  the  Times 

proper  reception.  The  suspense  would  not  be  long. 
The  boat  was  now  so  close  that  the  number  of  men 
in  her  could  be  counted  distinctly.  There  were 
eighteen  in  all,  for  the  stern  sheets  were  seen  to  be 
crowded.  The  brig  at  this  moment  lay  in  her  own 
little  calm,  about  two  miles  directly  off  the  star- 
board beam.  The  rest  of  the  whaHng  fleet  had 
noticed  her,  and  had  sighted  the  approach  of  the 
armed  cutter  also.  They  were  edging  off  to  the 
eastward,  evidently  hailing  one  another  and  hud- 
dling close  together.  But  the  Blazing  Star,  with 
just  enough  wind  to  move  her,  held  her  course. 

All  was  suppressed  excitement,  for  the  armed 
small  craft  was  now  within  a  half  a  cable's  length. 
"  Ship  ahoy ! "  hailed  an  officer  in  a  short,  round 
jacket,  standing  up.  "  Heave  to  there ;  I  want  to 
board  you ! " 

"Waal,"  drawled  Captain  Ezra,  through  his 
nose,  "  I  dunno  as  I  shall.     What  d'ye  want  ?  " 

There  was  no  reponse  to  this ;  the  officer  merely 
turned  to  his  crew :  "  Give  way  !  "  he  ordered,  and 
in  half  a  dozen  strokes  the  cutter  had  slid  under 
the  Blazing  Stars  quarter.  The  man  in  the  bow 
turned  and  made  fast  to  the  main  chains  with  a 
boat-hook.  Captain  Steele  was  smoking  an  old 
corncob  pipe.  He  looked  to  be  the  most  peaceful 
soul  in  the  world  as  he  stepped  to  the  gangway, 
but  under  his  long  coat-tails  his  hand  grasped  the 


The  Men  behind  the  Times  43 

old  horse-pistol.  Several  heads  now  showed  above 
the  bulwarks.  The  strange  officer,  who  had  evi- 
dently not  expected  to  see  so  many,  hesitated. 
Captain  Ezra  blew  a  vicious  puff  of  smoke  from 
between  his  firm  lips. 

"  Better  keep  off  the  side,"  he  said ;  "  we  don't 
want  ye  on  board  ;  who  be  ye,  anyhow  ? " 

"  Damn  your  insolence.  Til  show  you  !  "  cursed 
the  stranger.  "  On  board  here,  all  you  men  !  " 
He  sprang  forward.  Captain  Ezra  did  not  pull 
his  pistol.  He  stepped  back  half  a  pace  and  his 
eye  gleamed  wickedly.  The  unknown  had  almost 
come  on  board  when  he  was  met  full  in  the  chest 
by  the  heel  of  Captain  Ezra's  cowhide  boot.  Now 
the  Captain's  legs  were  very  long  and  strong,  and 
aided  by  the  firm  grasp  he  had  on  both  sides  of  the 
gangway,  the  gentleman  in  the  round,  brass-but- 
toned jacket  flew  through  the  air  over  the  heads  of 
his  crew  in  the  boat  below  and  plumped  into  the 
water  on  the  other  side.  One  of  the  men  in  the 
boat  instantly  drew  a  pistol  and  fired  straight  at 
the  Captain's  head  —  the  ball  whistled  through  his 
old  straw  hat !  But  that  shot  decided  matters.  It 
was  answered  by  the  four  old  rusty  muskets,  the 
last  one  hanging  fire  so  long  that  there  was  a  per- 
ceptible time  between  the  flash  in  the  pan,  and  the 
report.  Two  men  fell  over  on  the  thwarts  of  the 
small  boat.     The  man  who  had  fired  the  pistol  sank 


44  The  Men  behind  the  Times 

back,  pierced  through  and  through  by  the  slender 
shank  of  a  harpoon.  But  the  crowning  effect  of 
this  attempt  to  repel  boarders  occurred  just  at  this 
minute.  A  spare  anchor,  that  had  been  on  deck 
close  to  the  bulwarks,  caught  the  eye  of  Amos 
Jordan.  "  Here,  bear  a  hand  !  "  he  cried,  and  with 
the  help  of  three  others  he  hove  the  heavy  iron 
over  the  bulwarks.  It  struck  full  on  the  cutter's 
bows,  and  crushed  them  as  a  hammer  would  an  egg- 
shell. The  shock  threw  most  of  the  occupants 
from  off  the  thwarts  ;  the  boat  filled  so  quickly  that 
in  an  instant  they  were  struggling  in  the  water  — 
one  man  gained  the  deck,  but  a  blow  on  the  head 
from  the  butt  of  Captain  Dewey's  pistol  laid  him  out 
senseless.  One  of  the  Mason  s  crew  hurled  a  lance 
at  one  of  the  helpless  figures  in  the  water.  It 
missed  him  by  a  hair's-breath. 

"  Avast  that !  "  roared  Captain  Ezra.  "  We  don't 
want  to  do  more  murder  !  " 

The  officer  who  had  been  projected  into  the  deep 
by  the  Captain's  well-timed  kick  had  grasped  the 
gunwales  of  the  sunken  boat.  His  face  was  deathly 
white ;  thirteen  of  his  crew  had  managed  to  save 
themselves  by  laying  hold  with  him.  One  of  them 
was  roaring  lustily  for  some  one  to  heave  a  rope  to 
him.  To  save  his  life.  Captain  Ezra  could  not  help 
grinning. 

"Waal,"  he  said,  "this    is    a  pretty  howdy  do. 


The  Men  behind  the  Times  45 

Ye  kin  come  on  board  naow,  if  ye  want  tew,  only 
leave  them  arms  whar  they  be."  As  if  in  obedience 
to  this  order,  a  sailor  in  a  blue  jacket  with  a  white 
stripe  down  each  arm  and  trimming  the  collar,  un- 
buckled his  heavy  belt  with  his  free  hand  and  cast 
his  cutlass  far  from  him.  Two  others  followed 
suit. 

"  Naow,"  said  Captain  Ezra,  "  one  at  a  time  come 
on  board,  an'  we'll  find  aout  what  ye  mean  by 
attackin'  a  peaceable  whaler  with  dangerous  weapons, 
who's  homeward  baound  an'  hain't  offended  ye." 

The  first  man  up  the  side  was  a  red-cheeked, 
black-whiskered  individual,  who  mumbled,  as  he 
sheepishly  gazed  about  him  :  "  Douse  my  glims  but 
this  is  a  bloody  rum  go." 

"  Tie  'im  up,"  ordered  Captain  Ezra.  The  man 
submitted  to  having  his  hands  made  fast  behind  his 
back. 

"  Now  for  the  next  one,"  said  Captain  Ezra, 
blowing  a  calm  puff  of  smoke  up  in  the  air,  and 
watching  it  float  away  into  the  hollow  of  the  main- 
sail. In  turn  the  thirteen  discomfited  sailors  were 
ranged  along  the  bulwarks,  and  no  one  was  left  but 
the  white-faced  officer,  clinging  to  the  wreckage  of 
the  boat  that  was  now  towing  alongside,  for  one 
of  the  crew  had  heaved  a  blubber-hook  into  her,  at 
the  end  of  a  bit  of  ratline. 

"  Spunky    feller,  ain't   he  ? "  suggested    Captain 


46  The  Men  behind  the  Times 

Ezra,  turning  to  Captain  Dewey,  who,  in  the  excite- 
ment had  taken  two  big  chews  of  tobacco,  one  after 
another,  and  was  working  both  sides  of  his  jaws  at 
once.  "  The  last  t'  leave  his  sinkin'  ship.  That's 
well  an'  proper." 

The  young  man  —  for  he  was  scarcely  more  than 
thirty  —  needed  some  assistance  up  the  side,  for 
Captain  Ezra's  boot-heel  had  come  nigh  to  staving 
in  his  chest. 

"  Naow,  foller  me,  young  man,"  Captain  Ezra 
continued,  walking  toward  the  quarter-deck.  He 
ascended  the  ladder  to  the  poop,  and  the  dripping 
figure,  a  little  weak  in  the  knees,  guarded  by  a  boat- 
steerer  armed  with  a  harpoon,  obeyed  and  followed. 
As  the  Captain  turned  to  meet  him  he  noticed  that 
the  man  in  uniform  still  had  his  side-arms. 

"  I'll  trouble  you  for  that  thar  fancy  blubber-knife, 
young  man,"  he  said,  "an'  then  I'll  talk  t'  ye." 
The  officer  detached  his  sword  from  his  belt  and 
handed  it  over.  He  had  not  offered  yet  to  say  a 
word. 

"  Naow,"  said  Captain  Ezra,  holding  the  sword 
behind  his  back,  "  who  be  ye,  an'  what  d'  yer  want  ? 
as  I  observed  before." 

"  I'm  Lieutenant  Levison  of  His  Majesty's  brig 
Badger'* 

"Waal,  ye  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself," 
broke  in  Captain  Ezra. 


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rt 

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The  Men  behind  the  Times  47 


cc 


I  am/'  responded  the  young  man.  "You  may- 
believe  that,  truly." 

"  Waal,  what  d'ye  mean  by  attackin'  a  peaceful 
whaler  ? " 

"  Why,  don't  you  know  ? "  replied  the  officer, 
with  an  expression  of  astonishment. 

"  Know  what  ?  " 

"  That  there's  a  war  between  England  and 
America  ? " 

"  Dew  tell !  "  ejaculated  Captain  Steele,  huskily, 
almost  dropping  his  pipe.  He  stepped  forward  to 
the  break  of  the  poop. 

"  Captain  Dewey,"  he  shouted,  "  this  here  feller 
says  thar's  a  war." 

"  So  these  folks  have  been  tellin',"  answered  the 
Captain  of  the  Elijah  Mason ;  "  but  I  don't  believe 
it.     They're  pirates ;  that's  what  they  be." 

"  Gosh,  I  guess  that's  so,"  said  Captain  Ezra. 
"  I  reckon  you're  pirates,"  turning  to  the  officer. 
"  I  hain't  heard  tell  of  no  war." 

"We  are  not  pirates,"  hotly  returned  the  young 
man.  "  Damn  your  insolence,  I'm  an  officer  of  His 
Britannic  Majesty,  King  George!" 

"  Tush,  tush !  no  swearin'  aboard  this  ship. 
What  was  you  goin'  to  do,  rowin'  off  to  us  ? " 

The  officer  remained  silent,  fuming  in  his  anger. 
"  I  was  going  to  make  a  prize  of  you ;  and  if  I  had 
you  on  board  ship,  I'd  —  " 


48  The  Men  behind  the  Times 

"  Belay  that !  *'  ordered  Captain  Ezra,  calmly. 
"  Ye  didn't  make  a  prize  of  me,  an'  you're  aboard 
my  ship.     Don't  forgit  it." 

"  Well,"  broke  in  the  young  man,  angrily,  "  what 
are  you  going  to  do  with  me  ?  "  Captain  Dewey 
had  by  this  time  come  up  on  the  quarter-deck,  fol- 
lowed by  the  mates. 

"  I  presume  likely,"  said  the  skipper  of  the 
Blazing  Star,  rather  thoughtfully,  "  I  presume  likely 
we'll  hang  ye." 

The  Englishman  —  for  all  doubts  as  to  his  nation- 
ality were  set  at  rest  by  his  appearance  and  manner 
of  speech  —  drew  back  a  step.  His  face,  that  had 
grown  red  in  his  anger,  turned  white  again,  and 
he  gave  a  glance  over  his  shoulder.  The  brig, 
hopelessly  becalmed,  lay  way  off  against  the  ho- 
rizon. 

As  he  looked,  a  puff  of  smoke  broke  from  her 
bows.  It  was  the  signal  for  recall.  He  winced, 
and  his  eye  followed  the  glance  of  the  stalwart  figure 
with  the  harpoon  that  stood  behind  him. 

"  For  God's  sake,  don't  do  that ! "  he  said  hastily. 
"  I  tell  you,  sir,  that  there  is  a  war.  There  has' 
been  war  for  almost  four  months  now.  Upon  my 
word  of  honor." 

The  two  captains  exchanged  looks  of  incredulity. 
Suddenly  the  prisoner's  face  lit  up.  "  I  can  prove 
it  to  you,"  he  said  excitedly.     "  Here  is  a  Yankee 


The  Men  behind  the  Times  49 

newspaper  we  took  from  a  schooner  we  captured  off 
the  Capes  five  days  ago." 

"  The  New  Bedford  Chronicle,  by  gosh ! "  ex- 
claimed Captain  Ezra,  in  astonishment,  taking  the 
soaked  brown  package.  He  spread  it  out  on  the 
rail. 

"It's  true,  Cap'n  Sammy,  it's  true,"  he  continued 
excitedly.  "  Thar's  a  war ;  listen  to  this,"  and  he 
read  in  his  halting,  sailor  manner,  the  startling  head- 
lines :  "  The  Frigate  Constitution  Captures  the  Brit- 
ish Frigate  Guerriere.  Hurrah  for  Hull  and  his 
Gallant  Seamen  !  Again  the  Eagle  Screams  with 
Victory." 

There  was  much  more  to  it,  and  Captain  Ezra 
read  every  word.  "Young  man,"  he  said  at  last, 
"  I  owe  ye  an  apology.  If  ye'll  come  daown  into 
our  cabin,  I  kin  mix  ye  a  toddy  of  fine  old  Medford 
rum.  Between  lawful  an'  honest  enemies  there 
should  be  no  hard  feelin's,  when  the  fate  of  war 
delivers  one  into  the  hands  of  'tother.  Cap'n 
Sammy,"  he  observed  as  he  reached  the  cabin,  "  if 
we  had  really  knowed  thar  was  a  war,  we'd  a  gone 
back  and  took  that  thar  brig." 

"Yaas,"  returned  Captain  Dewey,  "we  be  sum- 
mat  behind  the  times." 

His  eyes  twinkled  as  he  glanced  out  of  the  cabin 
window.  Still  becalmed  and  almost  hull  down,  H. 
M.  S.  Badger  was  but  a  speck  against  the  horizon. 


50  The  Men  behind  the  Times 

The  Englishman  drew  a  long  deep  breath. 

"  Come,  sir,"  spoke  up  Captain  Ezra.  "  Don't 
get  down  hearted.  '  Live  an  learn,'  that's  my  motto. 
We're  drinkin'  your  good  health,  sir,  join  right  in." 

When  the  Blazing  Star  arrived  in  port,  she  turned 
over  to  the  United  States  authorities  an  officer  and 
twelve  men,  prisoners  of  war. 


THE   COWARD 


THE    COWARD 

HE  said  that  he  had  been  impressed  into  the 
English  service  from  the  brig  Susan  Butler, 
of  New  York.  But  what  grounds  the 
boarding  officer  had  taken  in  supposing  him  to  be 
a  British  subject  would  puzzle  most.  The  cocked- 
hats  generally  left  a  merchant  vessel's  side  with 
the  pick  of  the  unfortunate  crew.  The  qualifica- 
tions necessary  for  a  peaceable  Yankee  merchant 
sailor  to  change  his  vocation  and  become  a  servant 
of  King  George  were  plain  and  simple  in  1810: 
ruddy  cheeks  —  crisp  curling  hair  —  youth,  health, 
and  strength,  why  !  of  English  birth  and  parentage 
most  certainly !  What  use  the  papers  stating  that 
his  name  was  Esek  Cobb,  or  Hezekiah  Brown  ? 
His  home  port  or  natal  town  Portsmouth,  N.  H., 
Bath,  Me.,  or  Baltimore  ?  He  spoke  the  mother 
tongue;  he  was  an  A.  B.  His  services  were  needed 
to  fight  old  England's  enemies,  and  away  he  would 
go  in  the  stern  sheets  of  the  press  boat,  bitter  curses 
on  his  lips  and  irons  on  his  wrists. 

But  this  straight-haired,  Indian-featured,  narrow- 

53 


54  The  Coward 

shouldered  half-man  who  stood  there  on  the  Consti- 
tution s  deck,  with  his  soaked,  scanty  clothes,  cling- 
ing to  his  thin,  big-jointed  limbs,  why  in  the  name  of 
the  Lion  or  the  Unicorn,  or  the  Saint  or  the  Dragon, 
for  that  matter,  had  they  chosen  him  ?  He  told  his 
tale  in  a  low,  whimpering  voice,  with  his  eyes  shift- 
ing from  one  deck-seam  to  another  —  Five  years  in 
the  Royal  British  Navy!  —  Five  years  of  glorious 
service  of  the  one  who  rules  the  common  heritage 
of  all  the  peopled  earth  —  Five  years  of  spirit-mur- 
dering slavery. 

Not  six  cable-lengths  away,  a  dark  shape  against 
the  lights  of  the  town,  lay  the  great  ship  from  whose 
side  he  had  lowered  himself  in  the  darkness  to  swim 
to  the  shelter  of  the  smart,  tall-sparred  frigate,  over 
whose  taffrail  he  had  watched  his  country's  flag 
swinging  in  the  sunlight,  tempting  him  all  the  day. 
He  had  fought  against  the  swiftly  running  tide 
until  at  last — just  as  his  strength  had  left  him  — 
he  had  been  hauled  on  board  by  the  anchor  watch, 
and  now  his  one  prayer  was  that  they  would  not 
give  him  up.  The  men  who  stood  about  looked 
pityingly  at  his  shivering  figure.  A  middy,  attracted 
by  the  commotion,  had  hastened  aft  to  find  the 
officer  of  the  deck.  The  forecastle  people  mur- 
mured among  themselves. 

"  Captain  Hull  won't  give  you  up,  lad,"  said  one, 
laying  his  hand  on  the  poor  fellow's  shoulder. 


The  Coward  55 

"  This  ship  is  not  the  Chesapeake^*  said  another ; 
"  don't  ye  fear,  man/' 

"Here's  the  Leftenant,"  put  in  another  —  " 'ten- 
tion !  " 

"  What's  going  on  here  ?  "  asked  a  low  voice. 

The  sailor  who  had  last  spoken  touched  his  cap. 

"  I  was  down  making  the  running-boat  fast  to  the 
boom,  sir,  when  I  hears  a  faint  cry,  and  I  sees  a 
man  in  the  water  just  alongside,  sir.  I  lays  hold  of 
him,  and  thinkin'  it's  one  of  our  crew,  sir,  we  gets 
him  quietly  at  the  forechains ;  then  we  sees  as  how 
he  ain't  one  of  us,  sir,  —  he  says." 

"  That'll  do  ;  let  him  speak  for  himself  Where 
did  you  come  from,  my  man  ? " 

"From  the  Poictiers,  yonder,  sir.  For  the  sake 
of  mercy  don't  give  me  up  !  " 

"  Are  you  an  American  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir;  God's  truth,  I  am." 

"  Your  name  ?  " 

"  McGovern,  sir." 

"Where  were  you  born,  McGovern  ?" 

The  stern,  matter-of-fact  inquiry  could  scarce 
conceal  the  pity  in  the  tone ;  but  it  was  the  officer- 
voice  speaking. 

"In  Water  Street,  New  York,  sir,  not  far  from 
the  big  church  —     Oh,  for  the  love  of —  " 

"You  speak  like  an  Irishman." 

"  My  parents  were  Irish,  your  honor,  but  I  was 


^6  The  Coward 

born  in  the  little  house  fourth  from  the  corner. 
You  won't  let  them  —     Oh,  God  help  me  !  " 

The  sturdy  rocking  beat  of  oars  near  to  hand  off 
the  port  quarter  caused  an  interruption.  The  fugi- 
tive gave  a  quick  glance  full  of  terror  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  sound ;  then  he  dropped  forward  upon 
his  knees ;  his  whimpering  changed  to  a  hoarse 
weeping  whisper. 

"  Don't  give  me  up  ;  Vd  rather  die  —  save  me  — 
save  me/'  he  croaked. 

One  of  the  watch  came  hurrying  aft.  "  There's 
a  cutter  here  at  the  gangway,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice, 
saluting  the  Lieutenant. 

"Very  good,  my  lad,"  responded  the  latter. 
"  Take  this  man  below,  give  him  dry  clothes  and  a 
place  to  sleep." 

Two  men  helped  the  abject  creature  to  his  feet 
and  led  him  sobbing  to  the  forward  hatchway.  The 
Lieutenant  stepped  to  the  side. 

"  On  board  the  cutter  there,"  he  called,  "  what  do 
you  want  at  this  hour  of  night  ?  "  Well  he  knew, 
and  he  spoke  as  if  the  answer  had  been  given. 

"  On  board  the  frigate,"  was  the  reply.  "  We're 
looking  for  a  deserter ;  he  started  to  swim  off  to 
you  ;  has  he  reached  here  ?  " 

The  Lieutenant  disdained  deception.  "  We  fished 
a  half  drowning  man  out  of  the  water  a  few  minutes 
since,"  he  replied  quietly,  leaning  over  the  gangway 
railing. 


The  Coward  57 

"  He's  a  deserter  from  my  ship ;  I'll  be  obliged 
if  you  will  hand  him  over.  —  This  is  Lieutenant  Col- 
son,  of  the  Poictiers!' 

"  Sorry  not  to  grant  Lieutenant  Colson's  request ; 
the  man  claims  protection  as  an  American.  Captain 
Hull  will  have  to  look  into  the  matter.  —  This  is 
Lieutenant  Morris,  of  the  Constitution^ 

"  I  should  like  to  see  Captain  Hull  at  once.  In 
bow  there,  make  fast  to  the  gangway." 

"  Hold  hard,  sir.  The  Captain  is  asleep  ;  I  can- 
not waken  him." 

"  I  demand  you  do  —  you  are  in  one  of  His 
Majesty's  ports." 

"  I  know  that  well  enough  —  keep  off  the  side, 
sir."  There  was  a  moment's  silence,  and  then  the 
same  level  tone  was  heard  addressing  some  one  on 
the  deck.  "  Call  the  guard ;  let  no  one  come  on 
board  the  ship  to-night." 

There  was  the  sound  of  some  movement  on  the 
Constitution  s  deck ;  the  fast  ebb  tide  clopped  and 
gurgled  about  the  vessel's  counter  mirthfully.  The 
Englishman,  standing  erect  in  the  stern  sheets  of 
the  little  cutter  bobbing  against  the  frigate's  side, 
hesitated. 

"  On  board  the  frigate,  there  !  " 

"Well,  sir,  in  the  cutter!" 

"  Heark'ee  !  You'll  repent  this  rashness,  1  can 
warrant  you  that,  my  friend ;  you  will  pay  high  for 


58  The  Coward 

your  damned  Yankee  insolence,  mark  my  words. 
Shove  off  there  forward  "  (this  to  the  bowman)  — 
"  shove  off  there,  you  clumsy  fool !     Let  fall !  " 

There  had  been  no  reply  from  the  bulwarks  to 
the  Englishman's  burst  of  temper ;  but  Lieutenant 
Morris  stood  there  drumming  with  his  fingers  on 
the  hilt  of  his  sword,  and  looking  out  into  the  dark- 
ness. Then  an  odd  smile  that  was  near  to  being 
scornful  crossed  his  face,  and  he  turned  quietly  and 
began  the  slow  swinging  pace  up  and  down  the 
quarter-deck.  That  Captain  Hull  would  sanction 
and  approve  his  conduct,  he  did  not  have  the  least 
suspicion  of  a  doubt ;  if  not  on  general  principles, 
on  account  of  a  certain  specific  reason  —  to  be  told 
in  a  few  short  words  :  — 

It  had  happened  that  three  days  previous  to  the 
very  evening,  a  steward,  who  had  been  accused  of 
robbing  the  ward-room  mess  of  liquor,  and  inciden- 
tally of  drunkenness  arising  from  the  theft,  was  up 
for  punishment  —  somehow  he  had  managed  to  take 
French  leave  by  jumping  out  of  a  lower  port.  He 
had  been  picked  up  by  the  running-boat  of  the  flag- 
ship. At  once  he  had  claimed  to  be  a  subject  of 
King  George,  and,  needless  to  record,  the  statement 
was  accepted  without  question  —  whether  he  was  or 
not  bore  little  weight,  and  cuts  no  figure  in  this  tale. 
Suffice  it :  Captain  Hull's  polite  request  for  the 
man's  return  was  laughed  at,  very  openly  laughed 


The  Coward  59 

at,  and  the  Admirars  reply  was  a  thinly  veneered 
sneer  —  why,  the  very  idea  of  such  a  thing  ! 

Now  here  was  a  chance  for  that  soul-satisfying 
game  of  turn  and  turn  about.  Lieutenant  Morris, 
as  he  paced  the  broad  quarter-deck,  felt  sure  he  had 
voiced  Captain  Hull's  feelings,  and  then  he  began  a 
little  mental  calculation,  and  as  he  did  so,  slightly 
quickened  his  stride,  and  came  a  few  paces  further 
forward  until  he  was  opposite  the  port  gangway. 
There  he  stopped  and  looked  out  at  the  swinging 
anchor  lights.  Six  hundred  odd  guns  against  forty- 
four  !  And  then  there  were  the  land  batteries  and 
the  channel  squadron  probably  outside.  But  actu- 
ally, what  mattered  the  odds  ?  On  the  morrow 
there  was  going  to  be  something  to  talk  about,  that 
was  fact,  and  Lieutenant  Morris  smiled  as  brave 
men  do  when  they  look  forward  to  contest,  and 
know  they  have  right  with  them.  The  poor,  whim- 
pering dog  who  had  claimed  protection  was  probably 
not  worth  bis  salt,  and  was  certainly  not  needed  ; 
but  rather  than  give  him  up,  Isaac  Hull  would  go 
to  the  bottom  (in  his  very  best,  brand-new  uniform, 
Morris  knew  that  well  enough),  and  with  him  would 
go  four  hundred  sturdy  lads  by  the  right  of  their 
own  manly  choice. 

"  And  egad  they'd  have  company,"  Morris  rea- 
soned out  loud,  with  that  strange  smile  of  his. 

Captain  Hull  heard  the  news  and  all  about  it  at 


6o  The  Coward 

breakfast,  and  the  only  sign  that  it  interested  him 
in  the  least  was  the  fact  that  he  rubbed  his  heavy 
legs  in  their  silk  stockings  (he  generally  wore  silk 
in  port)  contentedly  together  beneath  the  table,  and 
disguised  a  wide  smile  with  a  large  piece  of  toast. 

"  Have  the  man  given  a  number  and  assigned  to 
a  watch,  Mr.  Morris,"  was  his  only  comment  to  the 
Lieutenant's  story. 

That  was  simple  enough.  But  the  heavy,  red- 
faced  Commodore,  although  prone  to  extravagant 
indulgence  in  expansive  shirt  frills,  jewelry,  and  gold 
lace,  usually  went  at  matters  in  the  simplest  manner 
and  after  the  most  direct  fashion.  There  did  not 
appear  to  be  any  question  on  this  present  occasion ; 
he  to  all  appearances  dismissed  the  subject  from  his 
mind;  but  Morris  knew  better  —  "Wait,"  said  he 
to  himself,  "  and  we  will  see  what  we  will  see." 
And  although  this  is  the  tritest  remark  in  the 
world,  it  was  more  or  less  fitting,  as  will  be  shortly 
proved. 

At  nine  o'clock  a  letter  arrived  from  the  English 
Admiral.  It  was  couched  in  the  usual  form,  it  was 
full  of  "  best  compliments,"  and  bristled  with  refer- 
ences to  "  courtesy  and  distinguished  conduct  in  the 
past,"  and  it  was  signed  "  Obd't  servant."  But  it  said 
and  meant  plainly  enough  :  "  Just  take  our  advice 
and  hand  this  fellow  over,  Captain  Hull,  —  right 
away  please,  no  delay  ;  don't  stop  for  anything.     He 


The  Coward  6i 

deserves  to  be  abolished  for  presuming  that  he  has 
a  country  that  will  protect  him." 

The  word  had  flown  about  the  decks  that  the 
EngHsh  cutter  was  alongside  with  a  message  from 
the  flagship.  The  crew  had  all  tumbled  up  from 
below,  and  a  hum  of  voices  arose  from  the  fore- 
castle. 

"  Bill  Roberts,  here,  he  was  on  watch  when  they 
hauled  'im  on  board,  warent  ye.  Bill  ?  —  I  seed  him 
when  they  brought  'im  below  —  he  had  the  shakes 
bad,  didn't  he.  Bill  ?  "  The  speaker  was  a  short, 
thickset  man,  who  had  a  way  of  turning  his  head 
quickly  from  side  to  side  as  he  spoke.  His  long, 
well-wrapped  queue  that  hung  down  his  back  would 
whip  across  from  one  shoulder  to  the  other. 

"We  thought  it  was  one  of  yesterday's  liberty 
party  trying  to  get  back  to  the  ship,"  responded 
the  man  addressed  as  Bill.  "  But  when  we  got  him 
on  deck  we  seed  as  how  he  warent  one  of  us,  as  I 
told  the  First  Luf.  Did  you  see  his  back,  Tom, 
when  we  peeled  his  shirt  off?  " 

"  God  a'  mercy !     I  seed  it." 

Well  those  marks  were  known.  Deep  red  scars, 
crisscrossed  with  heavy,  unhealed,  blue-rimmed  cuts, 
feverish  and  noisome. 

"  He  was  whipped  through  the  fleet  ten  days  ago. 
So  he  says.  I  don't  know  what  for,  exactly ;  says 
he  found  a  midshipman's  handkerchief  on  deck,  and 


62  The  Coward 

not  knowin*  whose  Vas,  put  it  into  his  ditty  box  — 
some  such  yarn.  —  Jack  here,  he  tells  of  somethin' 
like  that,  when  he  was  impressed  out  of  the  Ariadne 
into  the  old  Southampton^  don*t  ye.  Jack  ? " 

"Yes,  but  damn  the  yarn  —  this  fellow — where 
is  he  now  ? "  asked  a  tall,  light-haired  foretopman, 
around  whose  muscular  throat  was  tattooed  a  chain 
and  locket,  the  latter  with  a  very  red-cheeked 
and  exceedingly  blue-eyed  young  person  smiling 
out  through  the  opening  in  his  shirt. 

"  He's  hidin'  somewhere  down  in  the  hold,  I 
reckon,"  answered  a  little,  nervous  man;  "nobody 
could  find  him  this  morning;  guess  he's  had  all 
the  spunk  licked  out  of  him." 

"  I've  heard  tell  of  that  before,"  remarked  the 
tall  foretopman.     "  His  spirit's  broke." 

Just  at  this  moment  the  English  Lieutenant  who 
had  borne  the  message  from  the  Admiral  hurried 
up  from  the  cabin  where  he  had  been  in  consulta- 
tion with  Captain  Hull.  His  face  was  very  red, 
and  he  gave  a  hasty  glance  at  the  crowded  fore- 
castle, as  if  trying  to  enumerate  the  men  and  their 
quality.  Then  he  hastened  down  the  side,  and 
when  he  had  rowed  off  some  dozen  strokes  he  gave 
the  order  to  cease  rowing.  Then  standing  up  he 
looked  back  at  the  frigate  he  had  left,  taking  in  all 
her  points,  the  number  of  her  guns,  and  marking 
her   heavy  scantling  with  a  critic's  eye.     Then  he 


The  Coward  6^ 

seated  himself  again,  and  pulled  away  for  the  flag- 
ship. 

His  departure  had  been  watched  by  four  hundred 
pairs  of  eyes,  and  this  last  act  of  his  had  not  been 
passed  by  unnoticed. 

"Takin'  our  measure,"  observed  Bill  Roberts, 
cockswain  of  the  Captain's  gig,  turning  to  Tom 
Grattan,  the  thickset,  black-headed  captain  of  the 
maintop.     The  latter  grinned  up  at  him. 

"  There'll  be  the  Divil  among  the  tailors,"  he  said. 

The  tall  foretopman,  who  was  standing  near  by, 
folded  his  heavy  arms  across  his  chest. 

"  We'll  have  some  lively  tumbUng  here  in  about 
a  minute,  take  my  word  for  that,  mates,"  he  chuc- 
kled, "  or  my  name's  not  Jack  Lange  "  ;  and  as  he 
spoke.  Captain  Hull,  followed  by  all  of  his  lieuten- 
ants, came  up  on  deck.  The  Captain  turned  and 
spoke  a  few  words  to  Mr.  Cunningham,  the  ship's 
master.  The  latter,  followed  by  three  or  four  mid- 
shipmen, hurried  forward.  Some  of  the  men 
advanced  to  meet  him. 

"All  of  you  to  your  stations,"  he  ordered  quietly. 
"  Gunners,  prepare  to  cast  loose  and  provide  port 
and  starboard  main-deck  guns.  The  rest  stand  by 
ready  to  make  sail  if  we  get  a  wind  offshore." 

He  gave  the  orders  for  the  capstan  bars  to  be 
fitted,  and  turning  to  the  ship  armorer  he  told  him 
to  provide  cutlasses  and  small-arms  for  the  crew. 


64  The  Coward 

Quietly  boarding-nettings  were  made  ready  to  be 
spread,  the  magazines  were  opened,  even  buckets  of 
sand  were  brought  and  placed  about;  sand  to  be 
used  in  case  the  decks  became  too  slippery  from 
the  blood.  Down  in  the  cockpit  the  doctor  had 
laid  out  his  knives  and  saws  on  the  table.  In  five 
minutes  the  Constitution  had  been  prepared  for 
action.  And  all  this  had  been  accomplished  without 
a  sound,  without  a  shouted  order  or  the  shrilling  of 
a  pipe  ! 

Captain  Hull  inspected  ship.  Silent,  deep-breath- 
ing men  watched  him  as  he  passed  along.  At  every 
division  he  stopped  and  said  a  few  words.  "  Lads, 
we  are  not  going  to  give  this  man  up  upon  demand. 
Remember  the  Chesapeake.  We  are  going  to  de- 
fend ourselves  if  necessary,  and  be  ready  for  it." 
He  made  the  same  speech  in  about  the  same  words 
at  least  half  a  dozen  times.  Then  he  went  into  his 
cabin  and  donned  his  best  new  uniform,  with  a 
shining  pair  of  bullion  epaulets.  This  done,  he  gave 
a  touch  to  his  shirt  frills  before  the  glass  and  went 
on  deck. 

Signals  were  flying  in  the  British  fleet,  and  now 
the  forts  were  displaying  little  lines  of  striped  bunt- 
ing. There  was  scarce  breeze  enough  to  toss  them 
in  the  air.  The  sleepy  old  town  of  Portsmouth 
looked  out  upon  the  harbor.  Soon  it  might  be 
watching  a  sight  that  it  never  would  forget.     Per- 


The  Coward  65 

haps  history  would  be  made  here  in  the  next  few 
minutes,  and  all  this  time  the  fugitive  lay  cowering 
among  the  water-butts  in  the  mid-hold. 

A  breeze  sprang  up  by  noon,  and  the  two  nearest 
vessels  of  the  fleet,  a  thirty-eight-gun  frigate,  and 
a  razee  of  fifty,  slipped  their  moorings  and  came 
down  before  it.  A  hum  of  excitement  ran  through 
the  Yankee  ship.  There  was  not  sufficient  wind  to 
move  her  through  the  water ;  but  the  capstan  was 
set  agoing,  and  slowly  she  moved  up  to  her  anchor. 
As  the  smaller  English  vessel  drifted  down,  it  was 
seen  that  her  men  were  at  quarters.  It  was  the 
same  with  the  razee.  But  without  a  hail  they 
dropped  their  anchors,  one  on  each  side  of  the 
Constitution  s  bows,  at  about  the  distance  of  a  cable's 
length.  There  they  waited,  in  grim  silence.  The  men 
made  faces  at  one  another,  and  grimaced  and  gestured 
through  the  open  ports.  The  officers,  gathered 
in  groups  aft,  paid  no  attention  to  their  neighbors. 

There  followed  more  signalling.  A  twelve-oared 
barge  left  the  flagship  for  the  admiralty  pier.  From 
the  direction  of  the  town  came  the  sounds  of  a 
bugle  and  the  steady  thrumming  of  drums.  A  long 
red  line  trailed  by  one  of  the  street  corners.  Al- 
ready crowds  began  to  gather  on  the  housetops  and 
the  water-front.  Some  clouds  formed  in  the  west 
that  looked  as  if  a  breeze  might  be  forthcoming. 
Hull  watched  the  sky  anxiously. 


66  The  Coward 

The  midday  meal  was  served  with  the  men  still 
at  their  posts.  There  was  no  movement  made  on 
either  side.  Toward  evening  the  wind  came.  No 
sooner  had  it  ruffled  the  surface  of  the  water  than 
the  Constitution^  whose  cable  had  been  up  and  down 
all  the  day,  lifted  her  anchor  from  the  bottom,  and 
with  her  main  topsail  against  the  mast,  she  backed 
away  from  her  close  proximity  to  her  neighbors. 
Then,  turning  on  her  heel,  she  pointed  her  bow  for 
the  harbor  mouth.  It  was  necessary  for  her  to  sail 
past  every  vessel  in  the  fleet.  Drums  rolled  as  she 
approached.  Men  could  be  seen  scurrying  to  and 
fro,  and  as  she  passed  by  the  flagship,  a  brand-new 
seventy-four,  her  three  tiers  of  guns  frowned  evilly 
down,  and  a  half-port  dropped  with  a  clatter.  A 
sigh  of  relief  went  up  as  the  Constitution  passed  by 
unchallenged. 

There  were  but  three  vessels  now  to  pass,  —  a 
sloop  of  war,  a  large  brig,  and  a  forty-four-gun 
frigate  that  lay  well  to  the  mouth  of  the  harbor. 
The  latter,  apparently  in  obedience  to  signals,  was 
getting  in  her  anchor  and  preparing  to  get  under 
way ;  but  before  the  Constitution  had  reached  her 
the  breeze  died  down,  and  before  twilight  was  over 
it  was  dead  calm.  Hull  dropped  his  anchor,  and 
close  beside  him,  the  Englishman  dropped  his.  He 
was  at  least  two  minutes  longer  taking  in  his  top- 
sails.      It    continued    calm    throughout    the    early 


The  Coward  67 

watches  of  the  night.  At  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning  there  was  a  sound  of  many  oars.  The 
officers  were  on  the  alert.  "They  are  coming  down 
to  attack  us  in  small  boats/'  suggested  one  of  the 
junior  lieutenants.  But  soon  it  was  perceived  that 
such  was  not  the  intention,  for  in  the  dim  light  the 
big  brig  could  be  seen  approaching,  towed  by  a 
dozen  boat's  crews  working  at  the  oars.  There 
was  no  reason  for  longer  maintaining  any  secrecy, 
and  Hull  called  his  crew  to  quarters  in  the  usual 
fashion.  The  sounds  might  have  been  heard  on 
shore;  but  the  brig,  when  she  had  once  reached 
a  berth  on  the  American's  quarter,  dropped  her 
anchor  quietly. 

With  the  gray  of  morning  came  a  new  wind  from 
the  westward,  and  with  it  the  Constitution  slipped 
out  of  port,  the  two  vessels  that  had  menaced  her 
all  night  long  not  making  a  movement  to  prevent 
her  going.  Once  well  out  in  the  channel,  the  feel- 
ing of  suspense  was  succeeded  by  one  of  relief  and 
joy.  The  fugitive,  soaked  with  bilge  water,  shiver- 
ing and  hungry,  emerged  from  his  hiding-place  as 
he  felt  the  movement  of  the  vessel's  saiUng. 

"  How  is  that  man    McGovern  doing  ?  "  asked 

Captain  Hull  of  Lieutenant  Morris,  who  was  dining 

with  him  in  the  cabin.     "  He  ought  to  be  of  some 

use  after  the  trouble  and  worry  he  has  caused  us." 

"  I'm  sorry  to  say  he  isn't,"  responded  Morris, 


68  The  Coward 

shrugging  his  shoulders.  "  He  isn't  worth  powder. 
Why,  even  the  forecastle  boys  cufF  him  about  and 
bully  him  !  He  not  only  lacks  spirit,  but  he  is  one 
of  those  men,  I  think,  who  are  somehow  born  cow- 
ards. But  he  has  been  a  sailor  at  some  time  or 
other,  I  take  it,  although  he  told  me  that  he  was  only 
cook's  helper  in  the  galley  on  board  the  Poictiers. 
That's  his  billet  now  on  board  of  us,  by  the  way." 

It  was  true  :  McGovern  not  only  bore  the  name 
of  a  coward,  but  he  looked  it,  every  inch  of  him. 
His  shifty  eyes  would  lift  up  for  an  instant,  and 
then  slide  away.  His  elbow  was  always  raised  as  if 
to  ward  off  a  blow.  He  acted  as  if  he  expected  to 
have  things  thrown  at  him.  He  invited  ill  treat- 
ment by  his  every  look,  and  he  received  many 
blows,  and  many  things  were  thrown  at  him.  And 
the  unthinking  made  fun  of  all  this,  and  used  him 
for  their  dirty  work,  and  he  did  not  resent  it.  He 
took  orders  from  the  powder-monkeys,  and  cringed 
to  the  steerage  steward.  As  to  the  officers  and  mid- 
shipmen, he  trembled  when  they  approached  him, 
and  after  they  had  passed  he  would  spring  forward 
and  hide  somewhere,  panting,  as  if  he  had  escaped 
some  danger.  The  sight  of  the  boatswain  deprived 
him  of  the  power  of  speech.  He  acted  Hke  a  cur 
that  had  been  whipped,  and  in  fact  he  lived  a  dog's 
life.  And  yet  for  this  man,  those  who  despised 
him  would    have   gone  to  the  bottom.     Aye,  and 


The  Coward  69 

cheerfully,  for  behind  him  lay  the  question  soon  to 
be  cause  enough  for  the  shedding  of  much  blood. 

When  the  Constitution  reached  New  York,  Mc- 
Govern  disappeared. 

It  was  early  in  the  month  of  June,  18 12.  There 
was  evidence  of  a  feeling  of  great  uneasiness  that 
prevailed  throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the 
country.  In  the  coffee-houses  and  taverns,  at  the 
corners  of  the  streets,  in  the  gatherings  in  drawing- 
room  or  kitchen,  there  was  but  one  subject  talked 
about  —  the  approaching  war  with  England.  It  was 
inevitable,  naught  could  prevent  it,  was  the  opinion 
of  some ;  while  others,  more  cautious,  saw  nothing 
in  the  approaching  strife  but  the  dimming  of  the 
American  star  of  commerce  which  had  arisen,  and 
death  to  progress  in  arts  and  manufactures.  Their 
flag  would  be  swept  from  off  the  sea  ;  the  little  navy 
of  a  handful  of  ships  would  have  to  be  dragged  up 
into  the  shallows,  and  there  dismantled  and  perhaps 
never  be  set  afloat  again.  Little  did  they  know  of 
the  glorious  epoch  awaiting.  The  makers  of  it 
were  the  sailormen  in  whose  cause  the  country  was 
soon  to  rise. 

Jack  Lange  was  hurrying  along  Front  Street; 
he  had  been  transferred  from  the  Constitution  to  the 
Wasp,  It  was  but  a  moment  before  that  he  had 
landed.     He  had  the  tall  water-roll  in  his  gait.     He 


70 


The  Coward 


was  very  jaunty  in  appearance,  with  his  clean, 
white  breeches  very  much  belled  at  the  bottom,  his 
short  blue  jacket  and  glazed  cap,  and  from  the 
smile  on  his  face  one  could  see  that  he  was  very 
well  pleased  with  himself.  The  half-fathom  of  rib- 
bon that  hung  over  his  left  ear  would  occasionally 
trail  out  behind  like  a  homing  pennant.  He  was 
bound  for  Brownjohn's  wharf,  where  he  knew  he 
might  fall  in  with  some  of  his  old  messmates  and 
gather  up  the  news.  As  he  luffed  sharp  about  a 
corner  he  passed  some  one  hurrying  in  the  opposite 
direction.  It  was  a  man  of  about  thirty  years  of  age. 
His  arms  were  held  stiff  at  his  side,  and  his  face 
was  twitching  nervously.  His  eyes  were  rolling  in 
excitement.  Jack  Lange  turned,  and  lifting  one 
hand  to  the  side  of  his  mouth,  he  shouted :  "  Ship 
ahoy,  there  ! "  The  other  man  whirled  quickly,  and 
the  two  stood  looking  at  one  another  for  an  instant 
before  either  spoke.     Then  the  big  sailor  advanced. 

"  What's  the  hurry,  messmate  ?  "  he  said.  "  This 
is  McGovern,  isn't  it  ?     Don't  you  remember  me  ?  " 

"  Sure  I  remember  you,"  returned  the  other  in  a 
voice  with  a  touch  of  a  rich  brogue.  "  Have  you 
heard  the  news  ? "  he  added  suddenly,  his  hand 
trembling  as  he  touched  Lange  on  the  arm. 

"  What  is  it  —  about  war  ?  "  asked  Jack,  eagerly. 
' "  Aye,  the  war,  d'ye  mind  that  ?    There'll  be  great 
doings  before  long  !  '* 


The  Coward  71 

"  I  suppose  they'll  lay  the  navy  up  in  ordinary, 
and  we  poor  fellows  will  join  the  sorefoots  with  a 
musket  over  our  shoulders." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it ;  they're  going  to  outfit  and  sail 
to  meet  'em,"  responded  McGovern.  "  I'm  off  to 
tell  my  folks." 

The  news  was  all  about  the  town.  People  were 
running  hither  and  thither,  clapping  on  their  hats, 
women  called  to  one  another  from  the  windows  of 
the  houses,  crowds  commenced  to  gather.  Suddenly 
Jack  hesitated.  Surely  it  was  a  cheer,  a  rousing, 
sailors'  cheer,  off  to  the  left  down  the  alley  !  He 
Hstened  again,  and  giving  a  hitch  to  his  breeches,  he 
started  in  a  lumbering,  clumsy  gait,  swinging  his 
cap  about  his  head.  "  Hurray  !  "  he  bellowed  at 
top  lung  as  he  saw  in  a  crowd  gathered  before  one 
of  the  little  taverns  the  uniforms  of  some  of  the 
Constitution  s  men,  and  recognized  also  Bill  Roberts, 
and  his  old  messmate  Grattan. 

When  the  JVasp  sailed  again,  she  carried  between 
her  decks  as  fine  a  crew  as  ever  hauled  a  rope  or 
manned  a  yard.  Some  of  the  men  who  had  served 
on  board  the  Constitution  now  swung  their  ham- 
mocks in  the  crowded  forecastle  of  the  little 
sloop. 

Grattan  and  Roberts  were  in  the  same  watch,  the 
port,  which  was  in  charge  of  young  Lieutenant 
James  Biddle.     Jack  Lange  was  in  the  other  watch, 


72 


The  Coward 


and  with  him  were  two  of  the  Constitution  s  men,  — 
the  little,  black-eyed  gunner,  and  a  heavy,  thickset 
man,  who  at  first  glance  appeared  to  be  too  fat  and 
clumsy  ever  to  be  a  topman  ;  yet  he  was,  and  one 
of  the  best. 

Lange  was  stowing  away  his  hammock  but  a  few 
hours  after  the  IVasp  had  gotten  under  way,  when 
the  short,  thickset  man  approached  him. 

"  D'ye  see  who  is  on  board  with  us  ?"  he  asked. 
He  pointed  forward. 

There,  sitting  with  his  back  against  the  bulwarks 
was  the  Coward,  his  eyes  staring  straight  before 
him,  and  his  fingers  and  toes  —  for  he  was  bare- 
footed —  working  nervously.  Soon  there  came  an 
order  to  shorten  sail.  There  was  a  scramble  to  the 
shrouds,  and  among  the  first  to  reach  them  was 
McGovern.     Close  beside  him  was  the  fat  topman. 

"  Out  of  the  way,  you  swab  !  "  he  cursed,  striking 
out  with  his  elbow.  "  This  is  man's  work,"  he 
added.     "  Out  of  the  way,  can't  you  !  " 

The  hot  blood  rushed  to  McGovern's  face.  He 
hesitated.  At  that  moment  some  one  pushed  him 
from  behind,  and  before  he  knew  it  he  had  been 
hustled  oflF  the  bulwarks  to  the  deck.  Without  a 
glance  behind  him  he  slunk  down  the  hatchway. 
And  so  he  went  back  to  rinsing  the  dishes  in  the 
galley. 

Inside   of  three  months  the  Wasp  was  back  in 


The  Coward  73 

port  again.  Once  more  McGovern  disappeared. 
No  one  missed  him,  and  no  one  thought  about  it. 

On  the  13th  of  October  Captain  Jacob  Jones  set 
sail  again  in  his  trim  vessel,  but  just  before  the  Wasp 
had  left  her  moorings  a  boat  rowed  with  quick, 
nervous  strokes  put  out  from  shore.  The  man  at 
the  oars  was  doing  his  best  to  catch  the  sloop  of 
war  before  she  should  gain  headway.  In  the  stern 
sheets  sat  an  old  woman.  Now  and  then  she 
would  encourage  the  man  pulling  at  the  oars. 
There  was  a  short,  choppy  sea,  and  both  figures  in 
the  little  boat  were  soaked  with  spray. 

Suddenly  the  topsails  filled,  the  headsails  blew  out 
with  a  vicious  snap,  and  just  as  the  sloop  lurched 
forward,  the  little  boat  was  abreast  the  forechains. 
The  man  dropped  the  oars,  and,  springing  out- 
board, managed  to  catch  the  lower  shroud ,  with 
agility  he  hauled  himself  up  arm's  length  and 
sprawled  over  the  bulwarks,  down  on  deck.  It  was 
McGovern,  and  his  strange  coming  on  board  had 
been  observed  by  many.  He  arose  quickly  and 
gaining  the  shrouds  once  more,  he  waved  his  hand. 
"  Good-by,  mither  !  "  he  cried,  and  then  he  turned 
back  to  greet  a  burst  of  laughter.  But  all  hands 
were  too  busy  with  the  getting  under  way  to  pay 
much  attention  to  him,  and  he  disappeared  be- 
low. 

The  next  morning  it  blew  a  heavy  gale,  and  for 


74  The  Coward 

four  days  the  wind  lasted,  and  even  after  the  danger 
had  passed  the  day  broke  with  a  heavy  swell  on  the 
sea  and  the  weather  yet  boisterous.  The  Wasp's 
previous  cruise  had  been  uneventful.  She  had 
failed  to  fall  in  with  the  enemy,  and  now  this  con- 
tinued stress  of  weather  made  the  sailors,  ever  prone 
to  find  reasons  in  their  superstitions,  to  think  that 
they  must  have  aboard  with  them  a  Jonah  ;  some 
one  who  brought  ill  luck,  and  why  they  should  have 
settled  upon  poor  McGovern  it  would  be  hard  to 
tell.  Perhaps  he  was  ignorant  of  the  reason  for  the 
new  meaning  of  the  looks  of  dislike  and  suspicion 
that  were  cast  at  him,  or  perhaps  he  failed  to  notice 
them.     At  any  rate  he  made  no  comment. 

Surely  it  was  not  his  fault  if  the  second  day  out, 
during  the  height  of  the  storm,  the  jibboom  had 
carried  away,  and  two  of  the  starboard  watch  went 
with  it  and  were  lost. 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  excitement  attending 
this  particular  daybreak,  the  morning  of  the  i8th,  for 
the  night  before,  after  the  clouds  had  cleared  away 
and  the  stars  had  shone  brightly  forth,  several  large 
sails  had  been  reported  to  the  eastward.  Captain 
Jones  had  laid  his  course  to  get  to  windward  of 
them,  so  as  to  have  the  weather-gage  when  day 
came.  The  vessels  had  disappeared  as  the  weather 
had  thickened  a  little,  and  now  all  hands  had  gath- 
ered on  deck,  and    the    sloop  was  romping  along 


The  Coward  75 

through  the  sHght  drizzle,  almost  dipping  her  yard 
arms  at  times  in  the  heavy  seas  that  raced  past. 

"There  they  are. — Sails  off  the  lee  bow,  two 
points  away  !  "  shouted  a  lookout  from  the  forecastle. 
It  had  cleared  a  trifle,  and  there  they  were,  sure 
enough,  seven  vessels,  and  nearer  to,  was  a  trim  man- 
of-war  brig.  She  was  edging  up  slowly,  taking  in  sail 
as  she  did  so,  and  the  Wasp  swung  off  to  meet  her. 

"  English,  begad  ! ''  exclaimed  Captain  Jones. 
"  Have  the  drummer  beat  to  quarters,  Mr.  Biddle, 
as  soon  as  you  get  down  the  topgallant  yard  and 
shorten  sail." 

"Very  good,  sir.  —  Hello,  she  shows  the  Spanish 
flag." 

"  Never  mind  that;  she's  English,  I'll  beta  thou- 
sand." 

Biddle  bawled  out  the  orders,  and  the  usual  helter- 
skelter  rush,  from  which  emerges  such  careful  work 
and  such  wonderful  precision,  followed.  But  the 
first  man  to  gain  the  weather  shrouds  this  time  was 
McGovern.  Since  the  news  that  the  enemy  had 
been  sighted  had  been  passed  below,  he  had  been 
very  much  in  evidence.  Instead  of  his  greasy  scul- 
lion's rags,  he  wore  a  clean  suit  of  canvas.  His 
white  shirt  was  trimmed  with  blue  silk,  and  his  long 
hair,  that  usually  straggled  down  his  cheeks,  was 
twisted  into  a  neat  queue  down  his  back.  He  paid 
no  attention  to  the  questions  addressed  to  him,  took 


76  The  Coward 

no  heed  of  the  merriment  (for  men  will  jest  on 
strange  occasions) ;  but  kept  his  eyes  shifting  from 
the  group  of  officers  on  the  quarter-deck,  to  the  on- 
coming vessel  that  was  plunging  heavily  in  the  great 
seas.  When  he  had  seen  the  Spanish  flag,  his  face 
had  fallen ;  but  Bill  Roberts  was  standing  close 
beside  him. 

"  Never  mind  that,  my  lads  !  "  he  roared  to  those 
about  him.  "  No  one  but  a  John  Bull  or  a  Yankee 
would  bring  his  ship  along  like  that ;  take  my  word 
for  it,  my  hearties  ! "  and  then  had  come  the  order 
to  shorten  sail. 

McGovern  was  across  the  deck  like  a  shot,  at 
least  three  feet  in  advance  of  the  next  man,  who,  as 
luck  would  have  it,  was  the  short,  fat  topman  before 
referred  to.  Whatever  he  may  have  thought  was 
McGovern's  proper  sphere  and  natural  instincts,  it 
required  but  a  glance  to  show  that  he  knew  what  he 
was  about  as  he  started  clearing  away  the  parel 
lashings  and  then  unreeving  the  running-gear.  It 
requires  but  two  men  at  the  masthead  to  make  fast 
the  downhauls  and  look  out  for  the  lifts,  and  on 
this  occasion  there  were  two  pairs  of  skilful  hands  at 
work.  The  older  seamen  looked  into  McGovern's 
face  wonderingly  ;  but  the  latter  was  going  silently 
about  his  work,  occasionally  looking  out  across  the 
rolling  white  of  the  sea  at  the  little  brig  that  would 
soon  be  within  gunshot.      He  could  plainly  make 


The  Coward  77 

out  the  red  coats  of  the  marines  grouped  along  the 
rail.  "  Sway  away  !  "  and  the  topgallant  yards  came 
safely  down  to  the  deck.  The  men  were  at  quarters 
now,  and  the  matches  were  lighted. 

"Well    done,    McGovern ! "    exclaimed    the    fat 
sailor,  with  a  shamefaced  smile.     "  Well  done,  Mc- 
Govern !  "  called  one  of  the  midshipmen,  grasping 
.him  by  the  arm.     "  Here,  take  No.  2  at  this  twelve- 
pounder.     Do  you  know  the  orders,  lad  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir,  yes,"  answered  the  Coward,  excitedly. 
"  I  was  captain  of  a  gun  once,  o'  truth  I  was." 

But  a  pistol  shot's  distance  now  separated  the  two 
vessels.  Captain  Jones  hailed  through  his  trumpet. 
Down  came  the  Spanish  flag,  and  there  was  the  red 
cross  of  England  !  The  brig  let  go  a  broadside ; 
but  just  before  she  did  so,  the  sound  of  a  cheer  had 
come  down  on  the  wind. 

There  is  no  time  to  describe  the  details  of  the 
action.  But  few  of  the  Wasp' s  crew  had  been  in 
actual  combat  before.  Soon  there  were  deep  red 
spots  on  the  deck ;  there  were  groans  and  curses, 
and  much  sulphur  smoke.  Occasionally  the  muz- 
zles of  the  guns  would  dip  deep  into  the  water  as 
the  Wasp  hove  down  into  the  hollow  of  the  surge. 
A  sharp  crack  aloft,  and  down  came  the  main  top- 
mast, and  with  it  fell  the  topsail  yard.  It  tangled  in 
the  braces,  and  rendered  the  headsails  useless.  The 
Englishman  was   playing   havoc  with   the   rigging, 


78  The  Coward 

braces,  and  running-gear  of  the  Wasp.  Grape  and 
round  shot  were  mangling  everything  aloft. 

There  had  been  a  few  men  in  the  foretop  when 
the  action  had  commenced.  One  of  them  was 
Roberts.  Suddenly  glancing  up  from  his  gun, 
McGovern  saw  a  sight  that  made  him  start  and  cry 
out,  pointing.  There  was  Bill  trying  weakly  to  haul 
himself  over  the  edge  of  the  top.  Blood  was  run- 
ning from  a  wound  in  his  forehead,  and  his  left  arm 
hung  useless ;  his  leg  was  hurt  also.  But  he  was 
still  alive  and  dimly  conscious.  At  a  sudden  lurch 
of  the  vessel,  he  almost  pitched  forward  down  to  the 
deck.  Then  as  McGovern  watched  him,  he  ap- 
peared to  give  up  hope,  and,  twisting  his  hand  into 
the  bight  of  a  rope,  he  lay  there  without  moving. 
But  no  man  could  live  there  long  !  Splinters  were 
flying  from  the  masts ;  blocks  were  swinging  free 
and  dashing  to  and  fro ;  new  holes  were  being  torn 
every  second  in  the  roaring,  flapping  sails.  It  may 
have  been  that  no  one  else  had  time  to  think  about 
it ;  but  McGovern  did  not  hesitate.  He  threw 
down  the  sponge  and  jumped  into  the  slackened 
shrouds. 

"  Come  out  of  that,  you  fool !  "  somebody  shouted 
at  him  from  below  ;  but  he  did  not  pause.  A  round 
shot  whizzed  by  his  elbow.  A  musket-ball  carried 
away  a  ratline  above  his  head,  just  as  he  reached 
forward.     He    feit   as   if  a   hot   flame    had    licked 


"  Carefully  he  lowered  away.' 


The  Coward  79 

across  his  shoulder,  and  in  an  instant  more  his  white 
shirt  was  white  no  longer,  and  was  dinging  to  his 
back.  But  it  was  nothing  but  a  graze,  and,  un- 
daunted, he  kept  on  ascending.  He  hauled  himself 
into  the  top.  There  lay  a  dead  marine,  shot  through 
the  temple.  Now  he  bent  over  the  prostrate  sailor. 
Yes,  he  was  alive  !  Roberts  was  breathing  faintly. 
Despite  the  interest  and  excitement  of  the  action 
men  were  watching  him  from  below.  But  he  must 
work  fast  if  he  was  to  save  a  life  —  a  bullet  at  any 
time  might  complete  the  work  already  begun.  He 
tried  to  hft  the  heavy  figure  on  to  his  shoulders, 
but  found  he  could  not.  But  good  fortune  !  One 
of  the  halliards  had  been  shot  away  aloft,  and  hung 
dangling  across  the  yard.  McGovern  saw  the  op- 
portunity. Passing  the  bitter  end  of  it  around 
Roberts'  body,  close  underneath  the  arms,  he  made 
it  fast.  Then  passing  the  rest  of  it  through  the 
shrouds  he  gave  first  a  heave  that  swung  the  pros- 
trate figure  clear  of  the  blood-stained  top,  and  then 
carefullv  he  lowered  away  until  at  last  the  body 
reached  the  deck. 

Somehow  the  musket-balls  had  stopped  their 
humming  through  the  upper  rigging,  and  even  the 
firing  of  the  IVasp  had  slackened,  as  McGovern, 
reaching  for  one  of  the  stays,  rode  down  it  safely 
and  reached  the  deck.  And  now  occurred  a  thing 
that   has   been   unchronicled,   and   yet   has   had   its 


8o  The  Coward 

parallel  in  many  instances  of  history.  A  cheer 
arose,  a  strong,  manly  cheer,  —  it  came  from  across 
the  water ;  it  preceded  by  an  instant  the  roaring  of 
the  hoarse  voices  close  about  him.  But  McGov- 
ern's  ear  had  caught  it. 

"  Hark  !  "  he  cried,  pushing  his  way  forward  to 
reach  his  station.  "  Hark,  they're  cheerin'  !  They 
must  have  thought  we've  struck.  We'll  show  'em  !  " 
He  picked  up  his  sponge  again. 

Now  the  firing  became  incessant.  Steadily  as  the 
blows  of  a  hammer  were  delivered  the  telling  shots 
from  the  Wasp' s  port  divisions.  The  flames  of 
powder  scorched  the  enemy's  bows.  All  at  once 
there  came  a  crash.  The  jibboom  of  the  Englishman 
swept  across  the  deck,  tearing  away  the  shrouds 
and  braces,  and  then  with  a  heave  and  a  lurch  the 
vessels  came  together,  grinding  and  crunching  with 
a  sound  of  splintering  and  tearing  of  timbers  as  they 
rolled  in  the  heavy  sea. 

There  was  not  a  man  on  board  the  Wasp  that  did 
not  expect  to  see  the  English  sailors  come  swarming 
over  the  bow  of  their  vessel,  and  drop  down  to  fight 
in  the  old-fashioned  way,  hand  to  hand  and  eye  to 
eye.  But  there  must  have  been  some  delay.  For 
an  instant  there  was  a  silence  except  for  the  ripping 
of  the  Englishman's  bow  against  the  Wasp' s  quarter. 
But  the  red-crossed  flag  was  still  flying. 

Captain  Jones  saw  his  opportunity.     The  enemy 


The  Coward  8i 

lay  in  so  fair  a  position  to  be  raked  that  some  of 
the  Wasp's  guns  extended  through  her  bow  ports. 
The  men,  who,  without  waiting  for  orders  had 
caught  up  cutlasses  and  boarding-pikes,  were  or- 
dered back  to  their  stations,  and  at  such  close  quar- 
ters the  broadside  that  followed  shattered  the  enemy's 
topsides  as  might  an  explosion  on  her  'tween  decks. 
Two  guns  of  the  after  division,  loaded  with  round 
and  grape,  swept  her  full  length. 

But  some  of  the  more  impetuous  of  the  crew  had 
not  heard,  or  perhaps  had  not  heeded  the  order  to 
return  to  their  stations.  Jack  Lange  had  made  a 
great  leap  of  it,  and  had  caught  the  edge  of  the  Eng- 
lishman's netting.  As  an  acrobat  twists  himself  to 
circle  his  trapeze,  he  swung  himself  by  sheer  strength 
on  to  the  bowsprit,  and  gaining  his  feet,  he  stood 
there  an  instant,  then  he  jumped  over  the  bulwarks 
on  to  the  enemy's  deck  and  disappeared.  The 
handful  of  men  who  had  sought  to  follow  his  leader- 
ship had  all  failed  their  object,  for  a  slant  of  the 
wind  had  hove  the  two  vessels  so  far  apart  that  they 
were  almost  clear  of  the  tangle  of  shrouds  and  top- 
hamper  that  had  made  them  fast.  But  one  man 
had  made  a  spring  of  it  and  had  caught  the  bight  of 
one  of  the  downhauls  that  was  hanging  free.  Hand 
over  hand  he  hauled  himself  up  to  the  nettings,  and 
after  considerable  difficulty  —  for  he  was  all  but  ex- 
hausted —  he  succeeded  in  getting  his  body  half-way 


82  The  Coward 

across  the  bulwarks,  and  then  with  a  lurch  he  dis- 
appeared. During  all  this,  not  a  shot  had  been 
fired.  Every  one  had  watched  with  anxiety  the 
strange  boarding  party  of  two.  What  would  be  the 
outcome  of  it  ?  Suddenly,  as  the  sails  that  had  been 
tearing  and  flapping,  filled,  and  the  noise  subsided, 
a  strange  sound  came  down  from  the  direction  of 
the  other  vessel.  It  was  like  a  great  chorused 
groan  —  the  mingling  of  many  voices  in  a  note  of 
agony  !  Then  with  a  crash  they  met  again,  the 
English  ship  fouling  hard  and  fast  in  the  Wasf  s 
mizzen  rigging.  Lieutenant  Biddle,  followed  by  a 
score  of  armed  boarders,  jumped  upon  the  bulwarks 
and  endeavored  to  reach  the  other  vessel  and  be  the 
first  on  board.  In  this  he  would  have  succeeded 
had  not  little  Midshipman  Baker  caught  his  officer's 
coat-tails  and  endeavored  to  emulate  his  eagerness. 
But  at  last  the  Lieutenant  and  his  followers  gained 
the  deck,  there  to  be  witness  of  a  wonderful  sight. 

There  was  a  wounded  man  limply  leaning  against 
the  wheel.  Three  officers  were  huddled  near  the 
traffrail — but  one  was  able  to  stand  upon  his  feet; 
the  other  two  were  badly  wounded.  Jack  Lange 
and  McGovern  the  Coward  had  possession  of  the 
ship.  But  somehow,  overcome  by  the  sight,  they 
had  not  left  the  forecastle,  and  it  was  Lieutenant 
Biddle's  own  hand  that  lowered  away  the  flag. 

His   Majesty's  sloop  of  war  Frolic  was  a  prize. 


The  Coward  83 

Frightful  had  been  the  carnage  !  But  twenty  of  the 
English  crew  were  fit  for  duty.  She  was  a  charnel 
ship.  The  JVasp  had  lost  but  five  men  killed,  and 
but  five  men  wounded.  Among  the  latter  was 
Bill  Roberts.  Although  he  was  shot  three  times, 
the  surgeon  declared  that  he  would  live. 

To  and  fro  the  boats  plied  busily.  The  Frolic's 
masts  fell  shortly  after  she  had  been  boarded,  and 
now  every  effort  was  made  to  repair  damages 
and  take  care  of  the  many  wounded  and  the 
dying. 

Every  one  talked  about  McGovern,  he  who  had 
been  the  Coward  ;  he  who  had  cringed  to  the  loblolly 
boys,  and  who  had  taken  orders  from  the  ward-room 
steward  ;  who  had  washed  dishes  and  dodged  blows  ; 
he  was  the  hero  of  the  day.  And  how  did  he  take  all 
this  new  glory,  the  admiring  glances  and  the  remarks 
of  his  messmates  ?  Not  as  a  vainglorious  seeker  of 
reputation,  not  as  a  careless  daredevil  who  had  risked 
recklessly  his  life  for  the  mere  excitement ;  but  as  a 
cool-headed,  brave-hearted  man,  who  while  there  was 
yet  work  to  do  found  no  time  to  think  of  what  had 
been  done.  He  was  reincarnate,  as  if  during  the 
fire  and  smoke,  when  the  hand  of  death  was  every- 
where, the  spirit  to  do,  and  dare,  had  been  born 
within  him.  Forgotten  had  been  the  red  scars 
of  the  disgracing  cat  that  seared  his  back.  Here 
was  his  chance  to  show  what  was  in  him  ;  to  even 


84  The  Coward 

up  matters  with  the  power  that  had  almost  crushed 
his  soul.  Every  shot  from  the  JVasf  s  side  made 
his  heart  beat  with  joy.  The  born  fighter  had  been 
awakened.  He  craved  for  more,  and  animated  by 
this  feeling  he  went  about  his  work  with  a  half- 
delirious  strength  that  made  him  accomplish  the 
task  of  two  men.  All  eyes  were  on  him.  His 
officers  had  marked  him. 

"  Sail  ho  ! ''  called  down  one  of  the  men  who  was 
clearing  away  the  wreckage  aloft.  "  Sail  ho !  off  the 
starboard  bow." 

Driven  by  the  strong  breeze  that  had  blown 
throughout  the  morning  a  great  sail  was  bearing 
down,  looming  larger  and  larger  every  minute. 
The  Wasp  cleared  for  action.  The  Frolic^  aided  by 
the  little  jury  masts  that  had  been  hastily  rigged, 
was  ordered  to  bear  away  to  the  southward  before 
the  wind.  The  JVasp^  wounded  and  bedraggled  as 
she  was,  bore  up  to  meet  the  oncomer. 

Slowly  the  great  shape  rose  out  of  the  water,  sail 
by  sail.  A  tier  of  guns  !  another  !  and  a  third  !  — 
a  seventy-four !  With  two  ridges  of  white  foam 
playing  out  from  her  broad  bow,  she  bowled  along 
and  passed  so  close  that  her  great  yard  arms  almost 
overshadowed  the  little  wounded  sloop.  There 
came  the  sound  of  a  single  gun,  and  at  this  imperi- 
ous order  the  Wasp's  flag  fluttered  to  the  deck.  It 
had  not  needed  this  sight  of  the  red  cross  curling 


The  Coward  85 

and  uncurling  across  the  white  expanse  of  new  sail 
to  mark  her  as  one  of  the  great  guard  ships  of  old 
England.  English  she  was  from  truck  to  keelson, 
and  long  before  she  fired  that  disdainful  shot 
the  gunners  of  the  IVasp  had  put  out  their  smoking 
matches. 

And   McGovern  had  watched  her  come  with  an 
ever-changing  expression   in   his  eyes.       His    face, 
flushed    with    excitement    and    victory,    had   paled. 
Once  he  had  started  as  if  to  run  below  and  hide. 
There    was    something    familiar    in    those  towering 
masts  and  that  gleaming  white  figurehead,  and  as 
she  sailed  on  to  retake  the  little  Frolic^  McGovern 
was  compelled  to  hold  fast  to  the  bitts  to  prevent 
himself  from  falling.     The  ports  were  crowded  with 
jeering  faces.     The  quarter-deck  rail  was  lined  with 
laughing    officers,  in  cocked  hats  and  white  knee- 
breeches.     Under  her  stern  gallery  he  read  the  word 
Poictiers !     From  that  he  glanced  up  at  the  main 
yard  arm.      Men  had  swung  there  at  the  end  of  a 
rope  —  yes,  he  had  once  seen  a  convulsive,  struggling 
figure  black  against  the  sky.       Men    would    swing 
there  again  !     The  maxim  that  ^  a  deserter  has  no 
defence '    recurred    to    him.       He    glanced    about. 
Close   by   was   a   chain-shot,  two  nine-pound  sohd 
shot  connected  by  a  foot  of  heavy  links.      Like  one 
afraid  of  being  seen,  he  skulked  across  the  deck  as 
he   had  skulked  in  the  davs   before.     He  reached 


86  The  Coward 

the  side  where  part  of  the  bulwarks  had  been  torn 
away,  and  crouching  there  he  passed  the  end  of  his 
heavy  belt  through  a  link  of  the  chain,  and  without 
a  sound  lurched  forward,  all  huddled  up,  and  struck 
sideways  in  the  water. 


THE  SCAPEGOAT 


THE    SCAPEGOAT 

IT  was  a  famous  dinner  party  that  Captain 
William  Bainbridge,  Commander  of  the 
Charlestown  Navy  Yard,  gave  on  the  night 
of  the  31st  of  May,  18 13.  In  those  days  gentle- 
men sat  long  at  a  table;  they  knew  good  wines 
when  they  tasted  them,  and  if  they  drank  a  great 
deal  at  a  sitting,   they  sipped  slowly. 

The  cloth  had  been  removed,  and  upon  the  shin- 
ing mahogany  rested  two  or  three  cut-glass  decanters 
filled  with  the  best  Madeira.  Captain  Bainbridge 
sat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  in  a  high-backed  oaken 
chair;  he  was  dressed  in  a  blue  uniform  coat,  with 
the  gold-braided  lapels  thrown  back  over  his 
wide  chest.  In  his  snow-white  shirt  frill  there 
nestled  a  sparkling  jewel  given  to  him  by  the  Sultan 
of  Turkey,  upon  the  occasion  when  Bainbridge 
had  brought  the  old  frigate  George  Washington  into 
the  harbor  of  Constantinople  and  there  for  the  first 
time  displayed  the  flag  of  the  United  States. 

The  candles  had  burned  low  in  the  candelabra,  a 
silence  had  fallen  upon  the  company;  it  was  evident 
that  something  had  interrupted  the  easy  flow  of  wit 

89 


90  The  Scapegoat 

and  conversation.  Captain  James  Lawrence,  the 
guest  of  the  evening,  was  in  full  uniform,  with 
epaulets  and  great  gold  buttons  as  big  as  half-dollars. 
He  sat  opposite  Captain  Bainbridge,  with  both 
elbows  on  the  table,  cracking  walnuts  and  eating 
them  as  if  to  stave  off  hunger ;  his  face  was  flushed, 
and  a  frown  was  on  his  brow.  A  young  man  of 
not  more  than  twenty,  with  a  gleaming  mass  of  gold 
braid  on  his  left  shoulder,  the  mark  of  the  lieutenant, 
had  the  next  seat  to  him  ;  he  was  nervously  drum- 
ming on  the  table  with  his  finger-nails.  Occasion- 
ally he  would  glance  from  Lawrence  to  Bainbridge, 
and  then  at  the  two  other  officers  who  were  sitting 
there  in  constrained  silence. 

Well  did  they  all  know  how  easy  it  was  for  the 
word  to  be  spoken  that  would  fire  the  smouldering 
mine,  and  change  what  had  been  a  jovial  gathering 
to  the  prologue  of  a  tragedy.  Men  had  to  be  care- 
ful how  they  spoke  in  those  days.  There  could 
never  be  any  brawling  or  careless  flying  of  words ; 
courtesy  and  gallantry  limited  their  power  of  per- 
sonal offence ;  but  epithets  or  implications  once 
given  expression  could  not  easily  be  withdrawn. 
Men  who  had  been  friends  and  who  had  fought  for 
the  same  cause  would,  with  the  stilted  hat-tipping 
and  snuff-offering  fashion  of  the  time,  meet  one 
another  in  the  gray  of  morning  under  God's  sky 
and  do  one  another  to  the  death. 


The  Scapegoat  91 

At  last  Lawrence  spoke. 

"  Are  you  not  judging  me  harshly  in  this  matter, 
sir  ?  "  he  said.  "  You  say  you  doubt  my  caution.'* 
His  gaze  shifted  from  the  brilliant  jewel  in  Bain- 
bridge's  breast  to  the  frank,  manly  face  above. 

"  Your  caution ;  yes.  Captain,"  was  the  return ; 
"  your  courage,  my  dear  sir,  never." 

Lawrence  cracked  another  walnut  with  a  loud 
report.  "Surely  in  my  little  affair  with  the  Peacock 
you  have  granted  that  I  used  judgment ;  and  in 
regard  to  the  distribution  of  prize  money,  which  has 
not  seemed  to  suit  our  mutual  views  —  " 

Bainbridge  interrupted  him.  "  That  is  a  ques- 
tion apart  from  our  present  discussion,  sir,"  he  said. 
"  I  pray  that  you  will  postpone  it.  But  I  can  only 
say  for  the  benefit  of  all  concerned  that  I  do  not 
doubt  an  easy  adjustment.  For  what  you  decide 
must  perforce  be  agreeable  to  me." 

"You  are  my  senior  —  " 

"And  for  that  reason  I  have  taken  the  oppor- 
tunity, as  you  have  brought  up  the  subject,  to 
express  my  opinions.  I  cannot  order  you  ;  it  is  out- 
side my  province  or  my  wish.  Before  the  company 
you  have  brought  up  this  matter,  and  for  that 
reason  I  have  discussed  it.  Every  one  must  agree 
that  the  Department  authorities  at  Washington  have 
treated  you  most  unhandsomely.  Had  you  been 
given  the  command  of  the  Constitution,  as  was  first 


92  The  Scapegoat 

intended  and  promised  you,  and  were  she  in  a  con- 
dition to  put  to  sea,  I  should  say  nothing  but  what 
would  encourage  you  to  exercise  despatch." 

"  Ah,  if  I  but  had  the  Constitution  and  her  crew," 
put  in  Lawrence,  with  a  sigh  ;  "  if  I  but  had  them." 
Suddenly  he  brought  his  strong,  clenched  fist  down 
upon  the  table  with  a  crash :  "  Then  this  English 
captain  would  not  be  flaunting  his  flag  at  the  harbor 
mouth,  daring  me  to  come  on  and  fight  him ;  sham- 
ing us  all  here  where  we  lie  at  anchor !  The  Chesa- 
peake is  ready  ! " 

"  Ah,  but  she  is  the  Chesapeake,''  interrupted 
Bainbridge. 

"  True  enough ;  but  why  not  give  me  the  chance 
to  wipe  the  stain  from  off  her  name  ? "  He  suddenly 
arose,  and  leaning  across  the  table  spoke  quickly  and 
vehemently.  "  Order  two  hundred  of  the  Constitu- 
tion s  men  on  board  of  her,  and  I  will  sail  out  and 
give  battle  to-morrow !  I  doubt  not,  nor  do  I  fear 
the  consequences.  I  ask  this  of  you  as  a  proof  of 
friendship." 

In  his  excitement,  Lawrence  upset  one  of  the  tall 
wine-glasses.  It  tinkled  musically,  and,  reaching 
forward,  he  filled  it  to  the  brim,  and  Bainbridge 
waited  until  this  had  been  done. 

"  I  cannot  grant  your  request.  Captain  Lawrence," 
he  said  quietly  at  last.  "  Your  ship  is  in  no  condi- 
tion to  go  out  and  fight  at  the  moment.     She  has 


The  Scapegoat  93 

a   green    crew.      Her    running-gear   has    not   been 
tested/' 

"  Then  let  me  go  into  the  yard  and  call  for  volun- 
teers !  "   Lawrence  interrupted  hotly. 

"  I  cannot  prevent  you  taking  men  who  are  not 
busily  employed ;  but  I  shall  not  order  men  from 
work.     'Twould  be  sanctioning  your  action." 

The  mine  was  on  the  point  of  being  fired ;  the 
fatal  word  was  trembling  on  Lawrence's  lips.  The 
boy  lieutenant  half  rose  from  his  chair;  but  Law- 
rence controlled  himself  with  an  effort.  He  may 
have  realized  how  senseless  it  would  have  been  to 
impute  to  William  Bainbridge  lack  of  courage.  He 
may  have  thought  of  the  wicked  consequence  of 
such  a  speech.  But  he  was  obstinate.  His  nature 
was  not  one  to  be  thwarted  easily.  Throwing  back 
his  shoulders  and  looking  around  the  table,  he 
raised  the  brimming  wine-glass  to  his  lips. 

"Then,  here's  to  the  success  of  the  Chesapeake !  " 
he  blurted,  and  drained  it  to  the  bottom.  "  I  shall 
go  out  and  fight  this  fellow  to-morrow,"  he  added 
sullenly.  "  You  gentlemen,"  turning  to  the  others, 
who  were  all  officers  of  his  luckless  ship,  "  shall 
share  with  me  the  honor."  Turning,  he  walked  to 
the  side  of  the  room  and  picked  up  his  cloak  and 
heavy  bullion-edged  cocked  hat. 

"  Sir,  to  you  good  evening." 

Bainbridge  was  about  to  speak ;   but  on  second 


94  The  Scapegoat 

thought  he  remained  silent  and  bowed  slowly. 
Without  a  word  Lawrence,  followed  by  three  of  his 
officers,  left  the  room.  The  young  Lieutenant  lin- 
gered. His  face  had  flushed  when  his  captain  had 
spoken  the  word  "glory,*'  and  yet  the  calm,  dispas- 
sionate judgment  of  Bainbridge  had  appealed  to  him. 
He  was  a  beautiful  lad,  this  officer,  with  long-lashed 
eyes  like  those  of  a  young  girl.  His  light  brown 
hair  curled  softly  over  his  white  forehead.  One 
would  expect  nothing  but  laughter  and  song  from 
those  lips,  and  it  needed  the  strong,  square-cut  jaw 
to  give  the  note  of  decision  and  character  to  his  face. 
It  redeemed  it  from  being  too  classical ;  too  beauti- 
fully feminine.  He  loved  James  Lawrence,  his 
commander,  and  truly  a  boy's  love  for  a  man  who 
excites  his  admiration  is  much  like  a  woman's  in  its 
tenderness  and  devotion.  Lawrence  had  been  a 
father  to  him,  or  better,  an  elder  brother,  for  the  Chesa- 
peake s  commander  was  but  thirty-two  years  of  age. 
Young  William  Cox  had  been  much  at  Captain 
Bainbridge's  house  since  the  Chesapeake  had  dropped 
her  anchor  in  the  Charles  River,  and  the  Comman- 
dant had  watched  with  approval  the  mutual  attraction 
that  existed  between  the  young  officer  and  the  beau- 
tiful Miss  Hyleger,  who  was  the  sister  of  Bain- 
bridge's wife.  He  probably  knew  what  was  going 
through  the  young  man's  mind.  As  he  followed 
after  the  others  Bainbridge  stopped  him. 


The  Scapegoat  95 

"  Good  night,  James ;  may  God  watch  over  you. 
You  will  do  your  duty ;  of  that  I  am  well  as- 
sured/' 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  the  lad  returned,  flushing  as 
he  took  Bainbridge's  hand  in  both  of  his. 

When  left  alone,  the  Commodore  sat  there  in  his 
great  armchair,  and  on  his  face  was  a  great  shadow 
of  sorrow. 

Lawrence  did  not  go  on  board  his  ship  that  night ; 
but  Lieutenant  Ludlow,  Mr.  White,  the  sailing- 
master,  and  Lieutenants  Cox  and  Ballard  repaired 
on  board  at  once  to  make  ready  for  the  approach- 
ing conflict.  All  night  long  James  Lawrence 
walked  alone  under  the  trees  in  the  river  park,  and 
at  early  dawn,  still  dressed  in  his  resplendent 
uniform,  with  his  silk  stockings  and  white  knee- 
breeches,  he  made  his  appearance  at  the  Navy  Yard. 
Some  sixty  men  responded  to  his  call.  But  the 
older  sailors  wagged  their  heads.  It  was  not  neces- 
sary. Ah,  that  was  it !  Had  it  been  a  case  of  do 
or  die,  there  was  not  a  man  who  would  not  have 
thrown  down  his  work  and  jumped  at  the  chance  to 
fight.  But  the  Chesapeake  I  she  was  an  unlucky 
vessel.  Sailors  avoided  her.  Her  crew  was  riffraff^ 
in  a  measure ;  men  not  wanted  on  other  ships ; 
many  of  foreign  birth ;  Portuguese  and  Spaniards  ; 
a  few  Danes,  and  without  doubt  some  renegade 
servants  of  King  George. 


96  The  Scapegoat 

As  the  morning  mist  cleared  away  from  the  water, 
there  in  the  offing  was  the  English  frigate  that  had 
been  hovering  and  flaunting  her  challenging  flag  for 
the  past  three  days.  .  .  .  Boston  was  all  agog  with 
the  news.  The  whole  city  had  flocked  to  the  water 
front.  Before  nine  o'clock  the  Chesapeake  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  flotilla  of  small  craft.  Men  cheered 
themselves  hoarse.  Flags  floated  from  the  build- 
ings, and  women  waved  handkerchiefs  from  the 
docks.  But  yet,  some  of  the  wise  ones  wagged 
their  heads. 

The  bulwarks  and  top  sides  of  the  Chesapeake 
had  been  freshly  painted,  and  the  paint  was  not  yet 
dry.  As  her  crew  stretched  out  the  new  yellow 
hempen  running-gear,  they  smudged  everything 
with  the  pigment.  There  was  no  time  to  be  care- 
ful ;  it  was  a  hurly-burly  haste  on  every  hand.  The 
officers  were  reading  the  lists  of  the  men  at  the 
guns.  They  did  not  know  them  by  name  or  sight, 
and  were  trying  to  impress  their  faces  on  their 
minds  at  this  short  notice.  There  was  bawling  and 
hauling  and  shouting  and  confusion.  How  differ- 
ent from  the  clockwork  methods  on  board  the  Con- 
stitution !  But  at  last  everything  was  as  ready  as  it 
could  be.  Lawrence,  after  his  sleepless  night,  pale 
but  nerved  to  tension  by  excitement,  came  from  the 
cabin.  As  he  looked  down  the  deck,  his  spirits 
must  have  sunk.     Things  were  not  shipshape  —  at 


The  Scapegoat  97 

this  very  instant  he  may  have  regretted  that  he 
had  formed  the  decision  to  go  out  and  fight.  But 
it  was  too  late  to  withdraw !  He  gave  the  orders, 
and,  to  the  tune  of  Yankee  Doodle,  they  began  get- 
ting in  the  anchor.  The  pilot  was  on  board,  stand- 
ing beside  the  helmsman.  Lawrence  went  back  to 
his  cabin  and  wrote  a  letter  that  has  only  recently 
been  given  to  the  public.  It  was  addressed  to 
James  Cox,  the  uncle  of  young  Lieutenant  Cox,  of 
his  own  ship.  The  whole  tone  of  the  missive  dis- 
plays the  despondent  attitude  of  mind  under  which 
Lawrence  was  now  laboring.  The  postscript  that 
he  added,  after  referring  to  the  possibility  of  his 
untimely  end,  reads  as  follows  :  — 

"10  A.M.  The  frigate  is  in  plain  sight  from  our 
decks,  and  we  are  now  getting  under  way.'* 

It  was  the  last  sentence  he  ever  penned.  As 
soon  as  he  had  sealed  the  letter  he  came  on  deck 
and  delivered  it  to  the  pilot,  who  left  the  ship  within 
half  an  hour. 

Now  came  the  ordeal.  The  small  boats  that  had 
surrounded  the  vessel  were  being  left  behind  as  she 
gained  headway.  But  some  of  the  faster  sailers 
among  them  managed  to  keep  pace,  and  cheer  after 
cheer  sounded.  A  crew  of  rowers  in  a  whaleboat 
kept  abreast  of  the  Chesapeake  s  bows,  shouting 
words  of  encouragement  to  the  crew.  But  the  men 
did  not  appear  eager.     The  officers  could  not  help 


H 


98  The  Scapegoat 

but  notice  it,  and  the  impression  must  have  been 
most  heart  breaking. 

"  Muster  the  crew/'  Lawrence  ordered  at  last, 
turning  to  young  Ludlow ;  "  I  will  say  a  few  words 
to  them."  The  men  gathered  in  the  waist,  whisper- 
ing and  talking  among  themselves. 

"William,"  said  Lawrence,  to  Lieutenant  Cox, 
before  he  began  to  make  the  customary  address  that 
a  ship's  captain  in  those  days  made  before  going  into 
action,  —  "William,  I  know  that  I  can  trust  you 
—  you  will  do  your  duty."  The  young  man  at  his 
side  touched  his  cap.  "  You  will  find  me  here,  sir," 
he  repHed,  "unless  my  duty  is  elsewhere."  Law- 
rence stepped  a  few  feet  forward. 

"  Men  of  the  Chesapeake^''  said  he,  "  it  is  our 
good  fortune  to  be  able  to  answer  the  call  that  our 
country  has  made  upon  our  honor.  We  will  answer 
it  with  our  lives  if  necessary.  Do  your  duty  ;  fight 
well  and  nobly.  Your  country's  eyes  are  on  you, 
and  in  her  heart  she  thanks  you  in  advance.  Yon- 
der British  frigate  must  return  under  our  lee.  Let 
no  shots  be  wasted.     To  your  stations." 

There  was  some  low  grumbling  off  to  one  side  of 
the  deck.  A  black-visaged,  shifty-eyed  fellow  came 
pushing  to  the  front.  A  double  allowance  of  grog 
had  been  already  served ;  but  many  of  the  men  had 
been  imbibing  freely,  owing  to  the  proximity  of  the 
shore    and    the    ease  with    which    liquor    could    be 


The  Scapegoat  99 

obtained.  The  man  strode  out  before  the  crowd 
and  stopped  within  a  few  paces  of  the  Captain.  He 
spoke  in  broken  English.  Lawrence  listened  in 
anger  and  almost  in  despair.  The  man  complained 
in  insolent  tones  that  he  and  his  messmates  had  not 
been  paid  some  prize  money  due  them  now  a  long 
time.  Lawrence's  hand  sought  the  hilt  of  his  sword. 
He  would  have  run  the  fellow  through  as  he  well 
deserved,  did  he  not  see  that  among  the  crew  he 
numbered  many  followers.  Their  surly  looks  and 
gestures  proved  their  evil  temper.  The  man  declared 
that  unless  he  and  thirty  of  the  others  were  -paid  at  once 
they  would  decline  to  fight. 

Here  was  mutiny  at  the  outset !  A  fine  state  of 
affairs  to  exist  on  board  a  vessel  going  to  fight  a 
battle.  .  .  .  There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  ac- 
quiesce.    He  could  not  treat  the  cur  as  he  deserved. 

"Take  these  men  to  the  cabin  and  pay  them 
what  they  say  is  due  them,"  said  Lawrence,  bitterly. 
There  was  not  money  enough  on  board  the  ship, 
and  he  was  forced  to  go  to  the  cabin  himself,  and 
sign  due  bills  for  the  amount.  And  all  this  time 
the  enemy  was  in  the  offing  prepared  and  eager. 

The  English  frigate  hauled  her  wind  and  put  out 
to  sea  as  she  saw  the  Chesapeake  approach.  Her 
flag  was  flying,  and  now  Lawrence  unfurled  his. 
At  the  main  and  mizzen  and  at  the  peak  he  flew  the 
Stars   and  Stripes,  while   at    the  fore  he   displayed 


loo  The  Scapegoat 

the  motto  flag :  "  Free  trade  and  sailors'  rights." 
On  the  two  vessels  sailed  over  the  bright,  sunlit 
sea.  The  day  was  almost  without  a  cloud.  One 
or  two  small  sailing  vessels  still  followed  in  the 
Chesapeake  s  wake.  At  four  p.m.  she  fired  a  chal- 
lenging gun. 

There  were  no  seamen  of  the  good  old  school 
that  could  not  if  they  had  seen  the  English  ship  but 
admire  her.  With  calm  precision  the  Shannon — for 
it  was  well  known  who  she  was  —  braced  back  her 
maintopsails  and  hove  to.  In  silence  the  two  man- 
oeuvred. At  every  point  the  English  vessel  had 
the  better  of  it.  Which  would  fire  first  ?  There 
was  one  moment  when  the  Chesapeake  had  the  ad- 
vantage. Owing  to  her  clumsiness  more  than  to  her 
agiUty,  she  came  about  within  pistol-shot  distance 
under  the  enemy's  stern.  But  her  commander 
held  his  fire.  A  minute  more  and  they  were  on 
even  terms,  sailing  in  dead  silence  beside  one 
another,  nearing  all  the  time  —  who  would  have 
thought  that  they  were  craving  each  other's  blood  ? 
The  orders  on  board  one  ship  could  be  heard  on 
board  the  other.  The  word  "Ready"  was  passed  at 
the  same  moment;  but  the  discharge  of  the  Eng- 
lishman's broadside  preceded  that  of  the  Chesapeake 
by  a  perceptible  moment.  How  well  those  guns 
must  have  been  trained  !  Every  one  was  double 
shotted  and  heavily  charged.     The  Chesapeake  quiv- 


The  Scapegoat  loi 

ered  from  the  shock.  In  that  second,  in  the  time  it 
takes  a  man  to  catch  his  breath,^  the  _whole  aspe.ct  of 
affairs  had  changed.  Mr.  White,  the  sr.ihng-master, 
was  immediately  killed;  Mr- ^Balland,  ,the -JPounh 
Lieutenant,  was  mortally  wounded.  Ten  sailors 
fell  dead  to  the  decks.  Twenty-three  were  badly 
hurt.  The  bulwarks  were  crushed  in,  and  the  cabin 
was  torn  to  pieces. 

"  Steady  !  "  roared  Lawrence.  "  Steady,  boys, 
have  at  them  !  " 

There  was  a  marine  with  a  musket  in  one  of  the 
Englishman's  tops.  He  was  aiming  at  the  resplen- 
dent figure  in  gold  epaulets,  carefully  as  one  aims  at 
a  target,  and  at  last  he  pulled  the  trigger.  Law- 
rence fell  down  on  one  knee  ;  but  leaning  against 
the  companionway,  he  pulled  himself  erect  again. 
Not  an  expression  or  exclamation  came  from  him  ; 
but  his  white  knee  breeches  were  streaked  and 
stained  with  red.  Nearer  yet  the  two  ships  drifted. 
Their  crashing  broadsides  scorched  each  other. 
The  EngHshmen  cheered,  and  the  Yankees  answered 
them  —  the  volunteers  from  the  Charlestown  yard 
were  giving  a  good  account  of  themselves.  But 
several  times  the  Chesapeake  yawed  and  fell  off  her 
course  as  if  she  had  lost  her  head,  like  a  man  dizzy 
from  a  blow  that  deadens  the  brain.  And  good 
reason  why :  three  men  in  succession  were  shot 
away  from  her  wheel.     The  expert  riflemen  placed 


I02  The  Scapegoat 

in  the  Shannon  s  mizzentop  were  doing  their  work 
well.  A  pufF  of  wind  took  the  American  all  aback, 
she  fell  off  and  Gv/u'ng' about.  Her  anchor  caught 
in  the  Slidrmon's  after  port.  And  now  not  a  gun 
could  be  brought  to  bear !  Whole  gun's  crews  left 
their  places  and  plunged  down  the  companionway 
to  the  deck  below.  But  the  Shannon  was  taking 
advantage  of  her  opportunity.  Charges  of  grape 
and  canister  raked  and  swept  the  decks. 

Lawrence  looked  in  despair  at  the  frightful  havoc. 
He  knew  what  now  would  happen.  Every  minute 
he  expected  to  see  the  English  boarders  come  tum- 
bling on  board.  Lieutenant  Cox  had  been  sent 
below  to  take  charge  of  the  second  division.  Law- 
rence looked  for  an  officer.  The  only  one  in  sight 
was  Lieutenant  Ludlow.  Had  it  not  been  for  his 
uniform  no  one  would  have  known  him.  He  was 
blood  and  wounds  from  head  to  foot.  He  could 
not  stand  erect,  and  was  dragging  himself  about  the 
deck,  one  useless  leg  traihng  behind  him. 

"The  bugler!  call  the  bugler!"  thundered  Law- 
rence. "  To  repel  boarders  on  the  spar-deck ! 
Where  is  the  after-guard  ?  " 

Ludlow  fell,  better  than  clambered,  down  the 
main-hatch.  "  Pass  the  word  for  the  bugler  !  "  he 
cried.  "  Boarders  away  !  "  But  the  bugler  could 
not  be  found.  And  good  reason  why.  He  was 
down  in   the   deep    hold    hiding    amid    the   stores. 


The  Scapegoat  103 

Young  Lieutenant  Cox  heard  the  order.  "  Boarders 
away ! "  he  shouted.  As  he  started  to  rally  his 
men  and  rush  up  from  below,  he  was  met  by  the 
crowd  fleeing  from  the  terrible  slaughter  that  was 
taking  place  above.  But  at  last  he  managed  to 
work  his  way  up  the  companion  ladder.  He  too 
was  v/ounded  and  bleeding  —  a  splinter  had  gashed 
him  in  the  neck  and  another  in  the  shoulder. 
What  a  sight  he  saw !  Lawrence,  his  beloved 
friend,  his  idol,  weakly  holding  fast  to  one  of  the 
belaying-pins,  still  repeating  his  fruitless  cry  for  the 
men  to  rally  on  the  deck.  As  Cox  leaped  toward 
him  a  second  bullet  from  the  mizzentop  struck  the 
captain  in  the  abdomen  —  Cox  caught  him  as  he  fell. 
Lawrence  grasped  his  hand. 

"  Don't  give  up  the  ship ! "  he  cried  weakly. 
"  Don't  give  up  the  ship  !  "  He  placed  one  arm 
about  the  boy's  shoulder.  He  was  so  young ;  he 
loved  his  leader  so  much.  He  was  faint  from  loss 
of  blood.  It  was  his  first  action.  Never  before 
had  he  seen  dying  men,  or  listened  to  the  groans 
and  shrieks  of  the  wounded.  Who  would  expect 
him  to  break  away  from  that  last  fond  grasp  that 
had  not  relaxed  ?  He  did  not  know  that  he  was 
now  commander !  Almost  carrying  his  wounded 
leader,  he  staggered  down  the  ladder  to  where  the 
surgeon  and  his  mates  were  busy  at  their  direful 
work.     He  did  not  see,  just  as  he  left  the  deck,  the 


I04  The  Scapegoat 

English  boarders  headed  by  their  own  Captain,  the 
brave  and  gallant  Broke,  spring  over  the  railing. 
He  did  not  know  that  he  and  the  wounded  Ludlow 
were  the  only  officers  now  left  to  handle  ship.  .  .  . 
As  the  surgeon  hastened  to  Lawrence's  side.  Cox 
knelt  down  upon  one  knee.  He  could  not  control 
the  tears  of  sorrow  and  bitterness.  The  whole  scene 
of  the  previous  night  flashed  through  his  mind. 
Lawrence,  his  beloved,  eager  for  glory,  now  shattered 
with  the  hand  of  death  upon  him.  The  Captain 
released  the  boy's  hand. 

"  You  are  a  brave  lad,  William,"  he  said.   "  But  stay 
here  no  longer,  though  I  would  have  you  with  me." 

There  was  more  rushing  and  shouting  from  the 
decks  above.  Cox  hastened  up  as  fast  as  his  weak- 
ened limbs  would  carry  him.  It  was  hand  to  hand 
now ;  cutlasses  plying,  men  stabbing  on  the  decks, 
growling  and  grovelling  in  their  blood  like  fighting 
dogs.  There  was  a  party  making  an  onslaught 
toward  the  bows.  Cox  drew  his  sword  and  joined 
them.  The  first  thing  he  knew,  they  were  slashing 
at  him  with  their  heavy  blades.  They  were  Eng- 
lishmen !  He  did  not  know  his  own  crew  by  sight. 
The  firing  had  stopped ;  the  summer  breeze  was 
blowing  the  smoke  away.  But  what  a  sight  and 
what  a  sound !  The  battered,  reddened  hulls,  and  fl 
the  groans  that  rose  in  chorus !  Of  the  further 
details  there  is  little  to  relate.     Poor  Ludlow  was 


c/: 


The  Scapegoat  105 

killed  at  last  by  a  cutlass  in  the  hands  of  a  British 
sailor ;  for  after  the  flag  had  been  hauled  down,  a 
second  action  had  been  started  by  a  hot-headed  boy 
firing  at  a  British  sentry  placed  at  the  gangway. 
The  English,  by  mistake,  had  hoisted  the  captured 
flag  uppermost,  but  it  was  soon  discovered  and 
hauled  down  again  —  the  fight  was  over.  The 
Chesapeake  has  been  reckoned  one  of  England's 
dearest  prizes. 

The  sorrowful  news  of  her  defeat  was  carried 
quickly  into  Boston.  The  wise  ones  wagged  their 
heads  again.  At  the  house  of  the  Commandant  of 
the  navy  yard  at  Charlestown,  Bainbridge  paced  the 
room  alone,  deep  lines  of  grief  marking  his  rugged 
face,  and  on  the  floor  above,  a  young  girl  lay  insen- 
sible, for  the  word  as  first  brought  was  that  with  the 
other  oflicers  James  Cox  had  had  his  death.  Cap- 
tain Broke,  the  Englishman,  had  fought  a  gallant, 
manly  fight,  all  honor  to  him !  He  was  badly 
wounded,  and,  like  poor  Lawrence,  it  was  thought 
that  he  would  die.  The  latter,  when  he  had  heard 
the  firing  cease,  had  said  to  the  surgeon :  — 

"  Run  to  the  deck.  Tell  them  not  to  strike  the 
colors  !  While  I  live  they  shall  wave ! "  Brave 
Lawrence !  They  were  the  last  words  he  ever 
spoke.  Although  he  lingered  four  long  suff^ering 
days,  not  a  sound  passed  his  lips.  Broke,  on  the 
contrary,  was  raving  in  a  delirium,  and  these  were 


io6  The  Scapegoat 

the  words  he  kept  repeating  —  words  he  must  have 
spoken  before  the  action  had  begun  :  — 

"  See  the  brave  fellow  !  How  grandly  he  brings 
his  ship  along  !     How  gallantly  he  comes  to  action ! " 

Ah,  how  Halifax  rejoiced  when  the  Shannon 
sailed  in  there  with  a  Yankee  frigate  under  her  lee. 
How  the  guns  boomed,  and  how  the  city  went  mad 
with  joy !  And  how  England  rejoiced,  and  the 
"  Thunderer "  thundered  and  the  king  clapped  his 
hands  !  And  how  much  they  made  of  it !  How 
proudly  they  preserved  every  relic  of  the  captured 
ship  !  How  they  cherished  her  figurehead  and  ex- 
hibited her  logbook !  And  they  builded  her  tim- 
bers into  an  old  mill,  where  they  can  show  them  to 
you  to-day,  scarred  with  cannon  shot. 

Yes,  and  how  America  lamented !  Aye,  and 
grew  angry  in  her  distress  and  cried  for  vengeance  ! 
Many  times  during  the  trial  which  followed  in  the 
investigation  of  the  causes  for  the  vessel's  loss 
and  capture,  must  have  young  William  Cox  wished 
that  he  were  dead,  that  it  had  been  he  the  British 
cutlasses  and  musket-balls  had  hacked  to  pieces. 
The  navy  had  lost  a  ship  in  single  combat,  —  the 
press  and  the  authorities  did  not  like  that,  —  some 
one  must  suffer.  What  excuse  was  there  that  could 
hold  good  ?  said  they  —  the  great  public  which 
clamored  for  a  reason.  And  so  in  the  flush  of  the 
hot  feeling  he  was  sentenced  by  court  martial ;  sen- 


The  Scapegoat  107 

tenced  and  disgraced.  The  charge  of  cowardice  was 
disproved.  From  that  he  was  exonerated  —  he 
had  been  wounded.  But  why  had  he  not  cut  down 
the  men  as  they  left  their  guns  ?  (one  man  against 
fifty,  forsooth  !)  Why  had  he  left  the  deck  and 
gone  below  ?  Why  had  he  stayed  for  one  mo- 
ment's time  at  the  side  of  his  dying  friend  and 
leader  ^  And  so  he  was  made  the  scapegoat, 
although  if  he  had  been  six  men  or  ten,  he  could 
not  have  prevented  what  had  happened.  What  is 
the  use  of"ifs"?  The  best  ship  had  won.  But 
when  the  trial  was  over,  two  hearts  were  broken. 
The  young  officer  was  execrated  by  those  that  did 
not  know,  and  yet  who  talk  and  write.  Could  he 
dare  just  then  to  ask  a  woman's  hand  ^ 

The  navy  pitied  him,  the  scapegoat  of  the  Chesa- 
peake. How  he  petitioned  to  be  given  a  chance  to 
win  back  his  fair  name,  and  how  often  it  was  denied 
him  !  The  members  of  the  court  that  sentenced 
him  wrote  kindly  letters  almost  without  exception. 
But  even  the  brave  Decatur  did  not  dare  to  help 
him  —  public  opinion  is  more  formidable  to  face 
than  an  armed  ship.  And  so  William  Cox,  maybe  in 
the  hope  that  an  honorable  death  would  visit  him, 
shouldered  a  musket  and  fought  as  a  common  sol- 
dier in  the  ranks  on  land. 

And  when  the  war  was  over,  he  sought  refuge  in 
the  new  country  of  the  west,  where  perhaps  they 


io8  The  Scapegoat 

would  not  know.  And  there  he  lived  and  died ; 
died  an  old  man,  honored  and  respected  by  his 
neighbors.  But  those  that  loved  him  marvelled  at 
one  thing ;  he  never  smiled.  And  even  his  grand- 
children (for  he  married  late  in  life)  knew  not  that 
he  had  once  been  a  gay  young  lieutenant  with  a 
shining  epaulet  on  his  left  shoulder.  They  never 
heard  that  he  had  started  one  fine  June  day  to  find 
glory  and  fame ;  and  that  death  had  come  near  to 
him  but  passed  him  by,  which  he  had  more  than 
once  regretted  bitterly. 

After  he  had  been  laid  to  rest  letters  and  papers 
were  found  showing  that  to  the  last  he  had  been  try- 
ing to  have  his  name  placed  back  upon  the  navy 
}ists.  But  if  they  were  too  angry  to  listen  before  in 
their  deep  chagrin,  they  were  too  busy  now ;  they 
had  other  things  to  think  about.  And  people  who 
wrote  history,  aye  and  taught  it  in  the  schools,  did 
not  search  dispassionately  for  what  had  occurred  to 
view  the  facts.  They  took  the  feverish  verdict  of 
the  times  and  applied  adjectives  to  his  conduct  that 
were  out  of  place ;  some  called  it  "  pusillanimous  '* 
—  "cowardly."  We  can  look  at  things  differently 
now,  and  judge  them  for  their  worth.  There  is 
proof  enough  to  clear  his  name,  so  be  it  cleared  if 
these  few  words  can  help  to  do  it. 


THE    LOSS    OF    THE    VIXEN 


THE    LOSS    OF    THE    VIXEN 

ON  the  22d  of  October,  1812,  at  nine  a.m., 
the  United  States  brig  Vixen  crossed  St. 
Mary's  bar  outward  bound  for  a  cruise 
to  the  southward.  It  was  not  expected  that  she 
would  be  absent  from  home  waters  for  more  than  a 
month.  Her  commander  was  George  W.  Reed, 
a  good  officer,  although  he  had  had  little  experience 
in  actual  warfare.  The  hundred  and  ten  men  under 
his  immediate  command  had  trust  in  his  judgment 
and  were  all  animated  with  a  hope  of  coming  in 
again  with  one  of  the  enemy  under  their  lee,  or  at 
least  they  trusted  that  they  should  be  fortunate 
enough  to  make  one  or  two  rich  captures  and  return 
with  prize  money  to  their  credit.  As  one  of  the 
Vixen  s  crew  wrote :  "  All  hands  were  in  high  health 
and  spirits,  and  filled  with  the  idea  of  soon  return- 
ing with  some  fruit  of  the  consequence  of  the  war." 
Day  after  day  the  Vixen  sailed  on  and  saw  one 
sail  after  another  ;  but  owing  to  her  having  been 
well  to  the  leeward  in  every  case  she  had  been  unable 
to  bring  any  to  close  quarters.  On  the  tenth  morn- 
ing after  her  departure  a  sail  was  descried,  and  this 

I II 


112  The   Loss  of  the   Vixen 

time  it  so  happened  that  the  little  brig  was  well 
to  the  windward.  Setting  every  stitch  of  her  can- 
vas, she  made  after  the  stranger.  Judging  from  all 
reports,  the  Vixen  s  intentions  must  have  been  better 
than  her  powers  of  putting  them  into  practice ;  for 
if  her  legs  had  been  faster,  so  to  speak,  the  expecta- 
tions of  her  crew  might  have  been  answered,  and 
this  story  (which  is  nothing  but  a  record  of  events, 
however)  would  never  have  had  a  chance  to  be 
written.  So  it  is  safe  to  draw  the  conclusion  that 
she  was  not  as  fast  as  many  of  our  little  vessels  were 
at  this  period  of  our  naval  history. 

While  chasing  the  strange  sail,  another  was  per- 
ceived to  be  bearing  down  from  the  northwest.  This 
put  another  face  on  the  matter.  The  Vixen  hauled 
her  wind  and  waited.  As  it  was  perceived  the 
second  stranger  was  undoubtedly  armed  and  was  a 
large  brig.  Reed  called  his  men  together  as  was  the 
custom  and  made  the  following  little  speech :  — 

"  Now,  my  lads,  there  she  is  ;  I  expect  every 
man  to  stand  to  his  guns.  Don't  fire  a  gun  until 
you  are  within  pistol  shot;  take  good  aim  and  show 
her  fair  play." 

As  the  vessel  came  on  without  raising  her  flag,  she 
fired  a  broadside  of  round  and  grape,  which,  how- 
ever, served  no  other  purpose  than  to  churn  the  water 
into  foam  some  distance  ahead  of  the  Vixen  s  bow. 
The  latter  returned  the  compliment,  and  planted  a 


I 


The  Loss  of  the  Fixen  iij 

double-shotted  eighteen-pound  charge  in  her  antago- 
nist's hull,  above  the  sternpost.  Again  the  stranger 
fired  and  missed,  although  at  musket-shot  distance. 

Now,  odd  to  relate,  the  unknown  ran  up  signals, 
which,  not  understanding.  Captain  Reed  replied  to 
with  an  assortment  of  grape.  At  this  the  signals 
came  down  and  the  Spanish  colors  went  up  in  their 
place.  Bitter  was  the  disappointment;  she  was  to 
be  no  costly  prize,  after  all.  Seeing  there  was  some 
difficulty  on  board  of  her,  Captain  Reed  lowered  a 
boat,  and  ascertained  that  she  was  a  Spanish  brig  of 
fourteen  guns  from  Havana,  bound  for  Cadiz. 
Finding  out  that  she  only  had  two  or  three  men 
slightly  wounded.  Captain  Reed  went  on  his  way, 
after  regretting  that  the  "mistake"  had  occurred. 
However,  in  the  log  there  was  entered  on  this  day 
that  "  owing  to  the  good  chance  for  target  practice 
the  morning  had  not  been  spent  amiss." 

For  just  one  month  everything  seemed  to  run 
away  from  the  poor  little  Fixen.  The  men  were 
getting  discouraged.  They  would  see  a  convoy, 
most  probably  made  up  of  rich  merchantmen,  some- 
where off  to  leeward,  and  then  a  fog  would  shut 
down,  and  when  it  cleared  away  nothing  would  be 
seen  but  an  expanse  of  empty  horizon.  With  noth- 
ing done,  and  a  sorry  and  disappointed  crew,  she 
was  within  two  days'  sail  of  St.  Mary's,  in  the  state 
of  Maryland,  when  as  luck  would  have  it  the  man 


114  '^h^  Loss  of  the  Vixen 

at  the  masthead  reported  a  sail  on  the  starboard 
beam. 

Much  better  would  it  have  been  for  the  little 
Vixen  if  the  fog  had  closed  down  or  a  contrary  wind 
had  sprung  up,  or  had  she  gone  about  her  business 
and  made  for  home  as  soon  as  possible.  It  was 
just  daylight  in  the  morning.  Steering-sails  were 
set  on  both  sides  as  she  was  headed  out  again  to 
meet  the  stranger,  who  had  evidently  not  observed 
her  presence.  By  six  o'clock  it  was  made  out  that 
the  unknown  was  a  frigate  and  no  less.  This  was 
more  than  the  Vixen  had  bargained  for.  With  all 
her  canvas  standing  as  it  was,  she  tacked  ship  and 
hauled  up  on  the  wind,  which  was  extremely  light. 
But  the  frigate  proved  herself  to  be  a  good  one  at 
going;  she  had  set  all  of  her  light  canvas  that  she 
could,  and  it  was  a  caution  the  way  she  came  down 
upon  the  little  brig. 

Although  it  is  only  a  preliminary  to  the  story, 
which  has  another  side  than  that  of  the  amusing, 
one  cannot  read  an  extract  from  the  Vixen  s  log 
without  feeling  inclined  to  smile.  Therefore  to 
quote :  "  At  ten,  finding  the  chase  gained  on  us, 
increasingly,  commenced  starting  water  out  of  the 
fore  and  main  holds  to  lighten  the  brig.  At  eleven 
dead  calm  ;  out  sweeps  and  continued  rowing  with- 
out intermission  until  twelve.  Slow  work ;  but 
we  had  now  gained  some  advantage  over  the  chase. 


The  Loss  of  the  Vixen  115 

Then  a  breeze  springing  up  we  quickly  lost  it.  In 
sweeps,  and  to  lighten  the  brig  still  more,  hove  every 
article,  in  and  under  the  boats,  overboard.  Stationed 
hands  by  the  anchors  to  cut  them  away  when  ordered. 
Half  past  twelve  p.m.,  discharged  all  the  shot  from 
the  racks.  At  one,  cut  away  both  anchors.  At 
two  P.M.,  the  chase  still  gaining,  hove  two  elegant 
brass  nine-pounders  after  the  anchors.  Chase  still 
gained.  Broached  all  the  water  in  the  casks,  hove 
over  all  our  broadside  guns,  and  everything  that 
seemed  to  carry  weight.  Finding  that  in  despite  of 
our  exertions  the  Vixen  would  not  sail  an  inch  faster 
than  her  old  gait,  we  now  had  the  melancholy  satis- 
faction of  knowing  our  capture  was  a  certainty.  But 
we  were  determined  to  use  every  exertion  to  avoid 
it.  Thus  we  commenced  manoeuvring  with  the 
sails,  which  kept  the  men  on  the  jump  and  had  only 
the  effect  of  putting  off  the  capture  for  an  hour  or 
two.  At  three  p.m.,  all  her  guns  were  visible,  at 
half  past,  coming  up,  hand  over  hand,  she  gave  us 
a  shot  which  fell  short.  A  few  minutes  later  an- 
other was  sent  which  went  between  our  foremast  and 
mainmast.  Answered  by  running  up  our  colors  and 
firing  a  musket  to  windward.  The  chase  having 
English  colors  up,  and  as  it  would  have  been  madness 
to  engage  her,  we  fired  another  shot  to  leeward  and 
hauled  our  colors  down.  At  four  p.m.,  she  ranged 
alongside." 


1 1 6  The  Loss  of  the  Vixen 

And  noWj  strange  to  say,  all  those  on  board  the  brig 
were  astonished  to  see  that  the  frigate  had  the  word 
"  Constellation  "  painted  on  her  stern.  The  crew 
of  the  Vixen  looked  at  each  other  in  astonishment. 
Had  there  been  another  mistake  ?  But  there  was 
something  unmistakably  English  about  the  cut  of 
her  jib,  and  the  red  coats  of  a  party  of  marines  who 
were  scrambling  down  into  a  boat  which  she  had 
lowered  plainly  showed  her  character.  Besides  this. 
Captain  Reed  knew  well  that  the  Yankee  Constellation 
was  aground  in  the  mud-jflats  of  the  James  River, 
where  she  stayed  during  the  war. 

The  officer,  who  was  soon  on  board,  with  his 
seamen  and  marines,  informed  Captain  Reed  and 
his  lieutenants  that  the  Vixen  was  a  prize  to  His 
Britannic  Majesty's  frigate  Southampton,  thirty-six 
guns.  Sir  James  Lucas  Yeo,  commander.  At  once 
Captain  Reed  entered  the  English  boat  and  went 
on  board  the  frigate.  As  he  rode  close  under  the 
stern  he  saw  that  the  word  "  Constellation  "  had 
been  painted  on  a  wide  strip  of  canvas,  tacked  neatly 
over  the  name  "  Southampton.'*  He  did  not  ask 
the  reason  for  this ;  it  was  easy  to  guess.  If  she 
happened  to  put  in  to  one  of  the  small  harbors 
along  the  coast,  it  would  conceal  successfully  her 
identity.  Probably  Sir  James  did  not  know  that 
the  real  Constellation  was  fast  in  the  mud-flat. 

Sir  James  was  a  gentleman  and  a  nobleman  by 


The  Loss  of  the  Vixen  117 

action  as  well  as  by  birth,  and  his  very  first  doing 
proved  it.  He  came  forward  to  meet  Captain  Reed 
and  lifted  his  hat  in  a  courtly  salute  ;  Captain  Reed 
presented  the  hilt  of  his  sword  in  token  of  sur- 
render. 

"  No,  no,  sir,"  spoke  up  the  Captain  of  the  South- 
ampton, "  I  cannot  accept  this  from  you  ;  and  I 
wish  to  commend  you,  sir,  upon  the  skill  you  dis- 
played in  endeavoring  to  save  your  vessel.  My 
ship  is  a  very  fast  one." 

"And  mine  a  very  slow  one,"  put  in  Captain 
Reed. 

"But  I  am  sure  you  did  everything  that  any  one 
could  do  to  get  speed  out  of  her. 

"We  hove  everything  overboard  but  our  top  sides 
and  scantlings,"  returned  Reed. 

The  officers  standing  about  smiled,  for  the  Vixen  s 
frantic  endeavors  to  escape  had  been  watched  closely 
through  the  glass. 

The  kindness  shown  to  the  brig's  commander 
was  extended  in  every  way  to  the  other  officers  and 
to  the  crew  also.  As  the  frigate  was  very  crowded, 
but  seventy  of  the  Vixen  s  men  were  transferred  to 
her.  The  other  forty  were  kept  as  prisoners  on 
board  their  own  vessel.  Every  man  was  allowed 
to  take  his  dunnage,  and  the  prisoners  on  board  the 
Southampton  were  given  the  run  of  the  forward  and 
main  holds,  although    the   hatchways  were  closely 


1 1 8  The  Loss  of  the  Vixen 

guarded  by  armed  sentinels.  Excepting  for  the 
confinement,  which  was  absolutely  necessary,  of 
course,  and  which  was  in  direct  accordance  with  the 
rules  of  war,  the  prisoners  suffered  no  inconvenience. 
Twice  a  day  in  details  of  twenty  they  were  per- 
mitted to  be  on  deck  to  enjoy  the  fresh  air.  The 
Southampton  s  crew  were  already  on  short  allowance, 
owing  to  their  having  been  at  sea  for  some  length  of 
time,  and  the  dole  allowed  the  Americans  was 
almost,  if  not  quite,  equal  to  that  given  the  English- 
men. The  officers  were  treated  with  the  greatest 
of  politeness  and  civility,  and  Captain  Reed  dined 
daily  with  Sir  James  in  the  cabin.  All  hands  voted 
him  a  fine  man  and  gentleman,  and  that  he  was  a 
naval  officer  was  proved  conclusively  enough  by  his 
actions  subsequently  when  at  the  head  of  the  British 
operations  on  the  Lakes. 

Five  days  after  the  capture  the  weather  was  fine, 
but  a  small  sea  was  running.  The  Southampton^ 
under  easy  sail,  was  leading,  and  crowding  on  all 
she  could  carry ;  the  Vixen  managed  to  keep  within 
signalling  distance  of  her.  In  three  or  four  days 
every  one  expected  to  be  anchored  safe  in  Jamaica. 

It  was  about  half  past  eleven  on  a  bright  starry 
night  when  the  lookout  forward  suddenly  gave  the 
cry,  "  Land  ho  !  "  A  line  of  breakers  could  be  seen 
about  two  miles  to  the  westward,  and  above  them 
the  shores  of  a  little  island,  at  its  highest  point  but 


The   Loss  of  the   Vixen  119 

twelve  or  fourteen  feet  above  the  water.  Evidently 
the  sailing-master  of  the  frigate  was  out  of  his 
course.  He  probably  had  not  allowed  for  the  drift 
of  one  of  those  strange  Gulf  currents  which  have 
caused  the  destruction  of  many  a  fine  ship. 

The  Southampton  was  put  about  in  a  hurry,  and 
as  she  was  such  a  good  sailer  and  was  so  quick  in 
manoeuvring,  no  danger  was  apprehended,  and  she 
jogged  along  to  the  eastward  to  escape  the  proximity 
of  the  shoals.  The  Vixen  was  following  her  and 
taking  in  some  of  her  sail  as  the  wind  commenced 
to  blow  much  fresher.  At  twelve  o'clock  the  sky 
had  darkened,  and  it  was  difficult  for  one  vessel  to 
distinguish  the  other,  although  in  the  early  part  of 
the  evening,  by  the  aid  of  the  moon  and  stars,  every- 
thing had  been  visible.  The  mid-watch  was  just 
coming  on,  when,  with  a  sudden  shock,  the  Southamp- 
ton struck  on  a  sunken  ledge  of  rocks ;  but  she  slid 
over  the  first,  tearing  the  sheathing  from  her  hull  and 
wedging  herself  firmly  in  at  the  stern.  Immediately 
a  gun  was  fired  to  warn  the  Vixen,  that  was  follow- 
ing in  the  wake ;  and  also  to  be  a  signal  of  distress, 
as  the  greatest  consternation  prevailed  now  on  board 
the  frigate  —  that  was  leaking  badly.  But  the  usual 
ill  fortune  of  the  Vixen  pursued  her.  At  first  she 
hove  to  and  shortened  sail,  preparing  to  come  to 
the  frigate's  assistance.  Just  as  she  was  about  to 
heave  to  the  second  time  and  lower  a  boat,  she  struck 


i?,o  The  Loss  of  the  Vixen 

with  such  a  vicious  force  that  her  bows  drove  high 
out  of  water,  she  was  stove  in  completely,  and  all 
the  prisoners,  who  had  been  wondering  what  was 
going  on,  now  terrified  and  in  great  fear  of  immedi- 
ate death,  rushed  up  on  deck  to  see  a  strange  sight. 
It  was  pitch  dark  ;  the  waves  were  breaking  on  every 
hand,  and  off  the  port  bow  the  big  frigate  could  be 
seen  hard  and  fast,  signalling  in  great  distress. 

Her  position,  in  fact,  was  much  worse  than  that 
of  the  brig,  for  she  was  filling  and  settling  rapidly. 
Everything  was  being  done  that  knowledge  and 
good  seamanship  could  suggest  or  direct.  The  top- 
gallant yards  and  masts  were  sent  down,  and  top- 
masts were  struck ;  and  notwithstanding  the  sea  was 
very  rough,  two  boats  were  lowered,  and  although  one 
was  crushed  against  the  vessel's  side,  the  other  set 
out  to  search  for  a  safe  passage  through  the  reef. 
On  board  the  Vixen  the  boats  had  been  called  away, 
and  the  American  and  English  crews  were  mingled, 
but  without  confusion.  A  Yankee  sat  beside  John 
Bull  on  a  thwart,  and  deeming  that  their  own  vessel 
was  in  no  immediate  danger,  but  that  the  Southamp- 
ton was  about  to  sink,  they  started  to  act  the  part  of 
life-savers  and  rescue  as  many  of  the  frigate's  crew 
as  they  could.  There  was  no  thought  of  their  being 
enemies,  no  observance  of  the  diflFerences  between 
prisoners  and  captors ;  all  sought  to  act  for  the  cause 
of  humanity  and  to  save  human  life.     But  they  had 


&■• 


V/ 


The  Loss  of  the   Vixen  121 

not  proceeded  far  from  the  side  of  the  brig  when  they 
were  called  back  in  a  hurry.  The  Vixen  had  slipped 
from  her  firm  position  on  the  jagged  rock  and  was 
surely  sinking.  So  instead  of  being  a  rescue  party 
to  others  they  found  they  had  all  they  could  do  to 
save  themselves.  But  every  man  was  taken  off  and 
brought  on  board  of  the  Southampton, 

Daylight  was  waited  for  most  anxiously,  and 
when  it  came,  a  dreary  prospect  was  before  the  ship- 
wrecked ones.  Not  far  away  was  a  low  island  that 
was  pronounced  at  once  to  be  the  island  of  Concep- 
tion. Nothing  but  the  topgallant  masts  of  the* 
Vixen  showed  above  the  water,  as  she  had  sunk 
during  the  night.  The  Southampton  s  pumps  had 
been  kept  going  for  six  hours.  But  she  was  so 
badly  bilged,  and  the  water  was  gaining  so  fast,  that 
her  hours  were  numbered.  With  a  rising  sea  there 
was  immediate  danger  of  her  going  to  pieces,  and 
in  her  crowded  condition  the  consequent  loss  of  life 
would  have  been  too  terrible  to  think  of.  It  was  a 
row  of  about  ten  miles  from  the  reef  on  which  the 
ship  lay  to  the  distant  low-lying,  sandy  shore.  All 
the  boats  were  made  ready,  a  raft  was  built  and 
floated  alongside,  and  the  boatswain,  obeying  orders 
from  the  quarter-deck,  began  bawling :  "  Away 
there,  you  Vixens,  away  !  "  So  the  prisoners  were 
to  go  first ;  but  since  the  vessels  had  struck  they 
had   not  been   treated  as   prisoners   at  all.      They 


122  The  Loss  of  the  Vixen 

had  obeyed  Sir  James's  orders  as  though  they  were 
members  of  his  own  crew,  and  they  had  not  been 
shown  the  slightest  evidences  of  bad  blood  or  ill 
feeling  on  the  part  of  the  ordinary  seamen.  Before 
the  day  was  over  all  the  crew  had  been  transferred 
to  the  island,  and  a  boatload  of  provisions  had  been 
safely  landed.  Sir  James  and  his  officers  spent  the 
first  night  on  board  ship ;  but  on  the  following 
morning,  as  she  showed  all  evidences  of  a  speedy 
breaking  up,  a  tent  was  made  for  him  on  shore. 
A  strange  life  now  followed.  The  great  lack 
'  felt  upon  the  island  was  that  of  proper  drinking- 
water.  Conches  and  shellfish  and  land-crabs  there 
were  in  plenty.  The  four  hundred  odd  men  who 
now  found  themselves  marooned  on  this  island  far 
removed  from  the  usual  course  of  trade,  and  but 
seldom  visited,  had  to  depend  upon  a  small  pond 
for  their  drinking-supply.  If  this  should  be  ex- 
hausted, their  position  would  be  perilous  in  the 
extreme.  Two  boats  had  been  despatched  to  sum- 
mon aid  if  possible.  One  to  see  if  there  were  not 
some  cruiser  at  Cat  Island,  with  orders  to  proceed 
to  Nassau,  and  the  other  to  make  for  the  island  of 
Exhuma. 

A  little  settlement  composed  of  tents  and  wig- 
wams made  from  ship's  wreckage  soon  grew  up. 
Friend  and  foe  mingled  together  in  hunting  for 
conches,  or  in  sports  to  while  away  the  time. 


The   Loss   of  the   Vixen  123 

After  a  week  a  small  vessel  arrived  from  Cat 
Island,  for  the  message  calling  for  help  had  been 
received,  bringing  eighteen  sheep  and  a  quantity  of 
meal,  and  the  skipper  showed  where  there  was  hidden 
a  well  which  the  mariners  had  failed  to  discover.  An 
empty  hogshead  was  sunk,  and  a  sign-post  erected 
on  which  was  cut  "  The  Southampton's  Well, 
November,  1812.'*  For  many  years  it  stood  there. 
The  sheep  did  not  last  long,  and  soon  resort  was 
had  again  to  the  conches.  On  the  eighth  of  Decem- 
ber, three  English  vessels  arrived,  the  Caledonia^  a 
cutter,  Rolla,  privateer,  and  the  government  brig 
Rhodian.  Captain  Sir  James  Yeo  made  a  speech 
to  his  crew  and  their  "  guests,"  which  was  the  term 
he  used  in  referring  to  the  Vixens,  in  which  he 
thanked  the  latter  for  their  assistance,  their  cheer- 
fulness and  good  behavior,  and  he  stated  that  he 
would  do  everything  in  his  power  to  help  get  them 
exchanged,  or  provide  them  with  a  cartel  to  take 
them  to  their  own  country  on  their  arrival  at 
Jamaica,  whither  they  were  bound.  Then,  form- 
ing into  a  ragged  company,  arm  in  arm,  Yankee 
sailors  and  British  tars  marched  out  from  their 
little  settlement,  a  fifer  at  their  heads  playing  The 
Girl  I  Left  Behind  Me.  Leaving  their  little  island 
to  the  mercies  of  the  half-breed  wreckers  whose 
small  craft  swarmed  about,  they  sailed  away.  The 
rescued  "guests"  were  prisoners  agam. 


IN   THE   HARBOR   OF   FAYAL 


IN    THE    HARBOR    OF    FAYAL 

ON  the  lake  front  at  Chicago  during  the 
World's  Fair,  close  by  the  entrance  to 
the  long  walk  that  led  out  to  the  mar- 
vellously constructed  imitation  battle-ship,  the 
Illinois,  rested  an  old  iron  muzzle-loader.  It  was 
a  clumsy-looking  piece  of  ordnance  compared  to 
the  shining,  complicated  bits  of  machinery  that 
compose  the  batteries  of  a  modern  war-ship.  It 
looked  very  out  of  date  and  harmless,  and  people 
who  did  not  know  its  history  passed  it  by  with 
hardly  a  second  glance.  But  yet  this  old  gun  had 
taken  more  white  men's  lives  in  battle  than  all  the 
great  modern  breech-loaders  on  the  fleets  of  Europe 
combined  to-day.  It  was  but  nine  or  ten  feet  long 
and  threw  a  solid  ball  twenty-four  pounds  in  weight. 
A  small  inscription  on  a  metal  plate  told  the  in- 
quisitive that  the  gun  was  the  "  Long  Tom,"  from 
the  privateer  General  Armstrong,  that  had  been 
sunk  in  the  harbor  of  Fayal,  in  September  of  the 
year  1814;  that  it  had  subsequently  been  raised  and 
presented  by  the  Portuguese  government  to  the 
United  States.     There  were   some   who  knew  the 

127 


128  In  the  Harbor  of  Fayal 

story,  for  it  had  been  told  many  times,  and  long 
years  ago  the  country  rang  with  it.  Every  one  then 
knew  the  main  facts  of  the  incident,  and  because  of 
a  long  controversy  in  the  courts  owing  to  claims 
that  arose  from  the  action  for  indemnity  against  the 
Portuguese  government,  the  matter  was  kept  alive 
up  to  a  very  recent  date.  But  an  unfamiliar  story 
in  connection  with  a  well-known  fact  may  not  be 
amiss,  and  this  is  a  tale  of  the  harbor  of  Fayal  that 
perhaps  few  have  heard  before. 

But  to  get  to  the  telling  of  it,  it  is  necessary  to 
recount  a  good  deal  of  what  is  recorded  history. 

The  General  Armstrong  was  a  privateer  brig  out- 
fitted at  New  York.  She  was  owned  in  part  by  a 
New  York  merchant,  a  Mr.  Havens,  and  in  part 
by  her  commander,  Samuel  C.  Reid,  and  a  better 
sailor  never  stood  in  sea-boots.  She  was  not  a  big 
ship ;  but  her  armament  had  been  skilfully  chosen. 
Her  crew  of  picked  men  had  been  drilled  man- 
of-war  fashion.  She  mounted  eight  long  nine- 
pounders,  four  on  a  side,  and  amidships  she  carried 
the  big  twenty-four-pounder  before  referred  to. 
Her  First  Lieutenant  was  a  Mr.  Alexander  O.  Will- 
iams, a  very  young  man,  but  a  thorough  and  prac- 
tical seaman ;  her  Second  was  named  Worth ;  her 
Third  Lieutenant's  name  was  Johnson  ;  her  crew, 
all  Americans,  numbered  ninety  souls  all  told. 
Among  them  was  an  active,  handsome  fellow,  named 


In  the   Harbor  of  Fayal  129 

William  Copeland.  He  was  down  on  the  priva- 
teer's books  as  able  seaman  ;  but  before  the  General 
Armstrong  had  been  two  weeks  at  sea,  Copeland 
was  promoted  for  meritorious  conduct  in  an  action 
with  a  British  armed  schooner,  that  was  sent  home  as 
a  prize,  to  be  quarter  gunner.  It  was  Reid  and  him- 
self that  squinted  along  the  black  barrel  of  the  old 
Long  Tom,  when  she  fought  in  the  harbor  of  Fayal. 

It  was  the  26th  day  of  September  that  the  Gen- 
eral Armstrong  cast  anchor  there.  The  weather  had 
been  very  fine,  and  Captain  Reid,  very  proud  of 
his  vessel,  had  done  everything  to  make  her  look 
smart  and  tidy.  Her  rigging  was  all  tuned  up  to 
concert  pitch ;  her  decks  were  as  white  as  sand 
and  holystone  could  make  them,  and  the  men,  con- 
trary to  the  habit  of  most  privateers,  were  dressed  in 
suits  of  white  duck  and  blue.  The  American  Con- 
sul, John  D.  Dabney,  felt  a  thrill  of  pride  as  he  saw 
the  man-of-war  fashion  with  which  the  General  Arm- 
strong came  to  anchor.  As  the  long  white  gig  came 
rolling  up  to  the  pier,  and  the  men  boated  their  oars, 
Mr.  Dabney  recognized  that  the  officer  sitting  in 
the  stern  sheets  was  an  old  friend  of  his. 

"  Ah,  Captain  Reid,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Glad  to  see 
you.  My  compliments  to  you  on  the  appearance 
of  your  vessel.  I  thought  at  first  that  she  must  be 
one  of  the  regular  navy ;  in  fact,  I  took  her  for  the 
Enterprise.^' 


ijo  In  the   Harbor  of  Fayal 

"  Well,  I  flatter  myself  that  she  is  quite  as  ship- 
shape," returned  Captain  Reid.  "And  I  have  to 
work  my  crew  pretty  hard  to  keep  from  showing 
how  well  satisfied  I  am  with  them.  I  tell  you, 
Dabney,  it  isn't  every  man  that  has  had  such  a  fine 
lot  of  fellows  under  him.  As  to  my  success  so  far, 
it  has  been  fair  enough;  but  I'd  really  like  to  meas- 
ure distances  and  exchange  a  few  shots  with  some 
of  His  Majesty's  Httle  fellows." 

"  You  have  come  to  a  good  place  to  look  for 
them,"  Dabney  returned.  "  It  is  seldom  that  a 
week  passes  without  having  one  or  more  of  them 
drop  anchor  in  the  roads." 

Chatting  together  in  this  friendly  fashion,  the  two 
gentlemen  went  up  into  the  town.  It  was  late  in  the 
evening  before  Reid  came  to  the  water-front  to 
signal  for  his  boat.  Dabney  was  still  with  him. 
They  walked  down  to  the  end  of  the  pier,  and  Reid 
suddenly  pointed :  — 

"  By  Jupiter ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  here  we  come," 
and  following  his  finger  Dabney  saw  three  big  ves- 
sels lazily  moving  along  before  the  slight  wind, 
toward  the  harbor  entrance.  Their  earlier  approach 
had  been  hidden  by  the  headlands. 

The  harbor  of  Fayal  is  surrounded  by  hills,  oh 
the  slopes  of  which  the  town  is  built,  and  the  bay 
extends  in  a  semicircle  with  two  wide-reaching  arms. 
The  water  runs  deep  into  the  shore.     The  sun  was 


In  the  Harbor  of  Fayal  131 

setting  in  the  calm  evening  sky,  and  there  was  scarce 
enough  movement  on  the  surface  of  the  bay  to 
catch  the  red  reflections.  Dabney  turned  to  Cap- 
tain Reid  after  the  first  long  look. 

"  English,  or  else  I'm  much  mistaken,"  he  said 
quietly. 

"  Not  the  least  doubt  of  it  in  my  mind,"  Reid 
returned,  "  and  if  there  was  more  of  a  wind,  by 
Jove,  I'd  try  to  get  out  of  this.  .  .  .  Do  you 
think  it  is  safe  to  stay  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  neutral  port,"  Dabney  returned,  "  and 
Portugal  and  England  have  been  such  friends,  that 
I  do  not  think  John  Bull  would  take  advantage  of 
his  position  here.  In  my  opinion  they  will  respect 
the  neutrality." 

"Well,  they  won't  catch  me  napping,"  Reid  re- 
turned, as  he  stepped  into  the  gig  ;  and  after  request- 
ing the  Consul's  presence  at  dinner  on  the  following 
evening,  he  gave  the  order  to  shove  off,  and  pulled 
away  for  his  vessel. 

Mr.  WilHams,  the  First  Lieutenant,  met  him  at 
the  gangway.  "You  have  observed  our  friends 
yonder  ? "  he  asked,  pitching  his  thumb  over  his 
shoulder.     "  I  wish  we  were  out  of  here." 

"  So  do  I,"  Reid  returned,  "  but  we  must  make 
the  best  of  it." 

It  was  a  beautiful  sight  to  see  the  great  square- 
rigged  ships  come  to  anchor.     Forward  and  aft  all 


132  In  the  Harbor  of  Fayal 

hands  were  on  deck  watching  the  English  men-of-war 
perform  the  manoeuvre. 

"Well  done  !  "  exclaimed  William  Copeland.  the 
quarter  gunner,  turning  to  a  group  of  his  messmates. 
"  It  takes  an  Englishman  or  a  Yankee  to  make  a 
vessel  behave  as  if  she  were  alive.  By  Davy's 
locker!"  he  exclaimed  suddenly,  "I  know  that 
nearest  ship  ;  it's  the  Plantagenet,  I'll  bet  my  prize 
money.  Good  cause  have  I  to  remember  her;  she 
picked  me  up  in  the  North  Sea  and  I  served  three 
years  in  her  confounded  carcass.  Three  wicked, 
sweating  years,  my  lads." 

"  Where  did  you  leave  her.  Bill  ?  "  asked  one  of 
the  seamen  standing  near  him. 

"  At  Cape  Town,  during  the  war  against  the 
Dutch.  I'll  spin  the  yarn  to  you  some  day.  My 
brother  and  I  were  took  at  the  same  time.  The 
last  I  seed  of  him  was  when  we  lowered  ourselves 
out  of  the  sick  bay  into  the  water  to  swim  a  good 
three  miles  to  the  whaler  —  that  was  three  years  ago." 

"Do  you  reckon  he  was  drownded.  Bill?  " 

"  Reckon  so.  Leastways  I  haven't  heard  from 
him,  poor  lad  !  " 

Further  talk  was  interrupted  by  an  order  from 
the  quarter-deck  calling  away  the  first  cutter  to 
carry  a  stream  anchor  in  towards  shore  in  order  to 
warp  the  brig  close  under  the  walls  of  the  "  castle  " 
a  little  battery  of  four  or  five  guns  that  commanded 


In  the   Harbor  of  Fayal  133 

the  inner  harbor.  Captain  Reid's  suspicions  had 
been  awakened  by  seeing  a  boat  put  off  from  the 
shore,  and  noticing  that  one  of  the  frigates  was  get- 
ting up  her  anchor  preparatory  to  drawing  in 
nearer.  In  less  than  half  an  hour  he  was  moored 
stem  and  stern  so  close  under  the  walls  of  the  little 
fort  that  he  could  have  hurled  a  marline-spike 
against  the  walls  from  his  own  quarter-deck.  As 
it  grew  darker  he  could  see  from  the  flashing  of  lights 
that  the  English  vessels  were  holding  communi- 
cation with  one  another,  and  occasionally  across 
the  water  would  come  the  sound  of  creaking  blocks 
or  the  lilt  of  a  pipe.  He  knew  well  enough  that 
such  goings  on  were  not  without  some  object,  and 
calling  all  of  his  officers  aft  they  held  a  short  consul- 
tation. It  was  exactly  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening. 
From  shore  there  came  a  sound  of  fiddles  and  sing- 
ing. Although  Captain  Reid  had  promised  the 
men  liberty  that  evening,  owing  to  the  position  of 
affairs  the  order  had  been  rescinded,  but  neverthe- 
less there  was  some  grumbling  in  the  forecastle ;  for 
if  a  sailor  doesn't  grumble  when  he  gets  a  chance,  he 
is  not  a  sailor. 

"  I'll  be  shot  if  I  can  see  why  the  old  man  won't 
let  us  ashore,"  growled  a  sturdy  young  topman. 
"  D'ye  hear  them  fiddles.  Jack  ?  Can't  you  see  the 
senoritas  adancin'  ?  My  heels  itch  for  the  touch 
of  a  springy  floor  and  my  arm  has  a  crook  to  it 


134  I^  the   Harbor  of  Fayal 

that  would  just  fit  a  neat  young  waist.  Do  you 
remember  —  " 

"  Stow  your  jaw,  Dummer,"  broke  in  a  heavy 
voice  half  angrily.  "  And  you  too,  Merrick,  clap  a 
stopper  on  it,"  turning  to  another  of  the  malcon- 
tents. "  Hush  now,  listen  all  hands.  .  .  .  Oars  ! 
can't  ye  hear  'em  ?  And  muffled  too,  by  the 
Piper  !  Pass  the  word  below  ;  all  hands  !  "  With 
that  William  Copeland  ran  aft  to  the  quarter-deck. 
Captain  Reid  met  him  at  the  mast. 

"Their  boats  are  coming,  sir,"  Copeland  whis- 
pered excitedly;  "five  or  six  of 'em,  I  should  judge." 

"  Are  the  broadside  guns  ready  ?  " 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir,  and  double-shotted  ;  two  of  them 
with  grape  and  canister." 

"  How's  the  Long  Tom  ?  " 

"  Ready  to  speak  for  himself,  sir,"  Copeland 
replied  with  a  touch  of  pride,  for  the  big  gun  was 
his  especial  pet. 

The  three  lieutenants  had  now  grouped  close 
together.  "  See  that  the  magazine  is  opened,  Mr. 
Worth,  and  Mr.  Williams  call  the  men  to  their 
stations  quietly.  They  will  try  to  come  in  on  the 
port  hand  most  probably.  Gentlemen,  to  your 
stations.  No  firing  until  you  get  the  word  from  the 
quarter-deck,  and  stop  all  talking  on  the  ship." 

Even  the  sentry,  patrolling  his  beat  on  the  castle 
walls,  did  not  hear  or  notice  anything  extraordinary 


In  the   Harbor  of  Fayal  135 

on  board  the  privateer,  so  silently  were  the  orders 
followed  out.  The  moon  was  struggling  to  pierce 
through  the  thin,  filmy  clouds  that  obscured  her 
light.  It  was  one  of  those  nights  when  objects 
appear  suddenly  out  of  the  invisible  and  take  shape 
with  distinctness  close  to  hand.  But  every  one  could 
hear  the  sounds  now. 

"  Thrum,  thrum,  thrum,"  the  swing  of  oars  ; 
despite  that  the  rhythm  was  muffled  and  subdued. 

Reid  was  leaning  over  the  rail  with  a  night  glass 
aimed  in  the  direction  of  the  frigate.  A  figure 
hurried  to  his  side.  It  was  Lieutenant  Williams. 
"We  can  see  them  from  for'ard,  sir,"  he  said 
breathlessly.  "  Everything  is  ready,  and  there's 
surely  some  mischief  afoot." 

"  Yes,  I  can  see  them  now ;  four  of  them,  chock 
a  block  with  men,"  Reid  returned,  closing  the  glass 
with  a  snap.  "  Now  stand  by,  all  hands,  for  orders." 
Then  raising  his  voice,  he  shot  the  following  ques- 
tion out  into  the  semi-darkness :  "  On  board  the 
boats,  there !  There  is  no  landing  here.  Keep 
away  from  our  side." 

The  rowing  ceased ;  but  it  was  only  an  instant 
and  then  it  began  again. 

"  I  warn  you  to  come  no  nearer  !  "  shouted  Reid. 
"  You  do  so  at  your  peril." 

Four  dark  shapes  were  now  visible  without  the 
aid  of  any  glass.     The  plash  of  the  oars  could  be 


136  In  the  Harbor  of  Fayal 

heard  as  they  caught  the  water.  Reid  just  noticed 
the  figure  of  William  Copeland  bending  over  the 
breech  of  the  Long  Tom,  whose  muzzle  extended 
across  the  bulwarks. 

"  Keep  off  or  I  shall  fire  !  "  he  warned  for  the  third 
time.  There  came  an  answer  to  this  clear  enough 
to  be  heard  by  every  man  standing  at  the  guns. 

"  Give  way,  lads,  together." 

"Fire!"  roared  Reid,  in  a  voice  that  must  have 
been  heard  distinctly  along  the  shore.  The  reply 
was  a  scarlet  burst  of  flame  and  a  crash  that  sent  the 
echoes  up  the  hills.  It  stopped  the  fiddles  in  the 
dance-house ;  it  set  the  drums  and  bugles  rolling 
and  tooting  in  the  fortress,  and  the  American 
Consul,  sitting  over  his  coffee  on  the  public  square, 
jumped  to  his  feet,  and  ran,  followed  by  a  clamoring 
crowd,  to  the  pier-head. 

From  the  direction  of  the  boats  came  a  confusion 
of  orders  following  the  broadside.  Groans  and 
shrieks  for  help  arose  from  the  darkness.  Some 
spurts  of  flame  came  quickly  and  several  musket- 
balls  whistled  over  the  Armstrong  s  deck.  Then  the 
loud  report  of  a  heavy  boat  gun,  and  a  groan  and 
cry  followed  immediately  from  the  brig's  forecastle. 

All  was  silent  now  except  for  the  sound  of  plash- 
ing in  the  water  and  some  groans  and  muffled  cries. 
Reid  was  about  to  hail  when  he  saw  three  men  hur- 
rying aft  with  a  heavy  burden  in  their  arms. 


In  the  Harbor  of  Fayal  137 

"It's  Mr.  Williams,  sir;  he's  shot  in  the  head, 
and  Dummer,  of  the  forward  division,  sir,  is  killed," 
one  of  them  said  gruffly.  Poor  Dummer !  He 
would  dance  no  more  with  the  senoritas  —  there 
were  to  be  no  more  liberty  parties  for  him. 

Reid's  intention  of  lowering  away  a  boat  faded 
from  his  mind.  There  would  be  more  of  the  same 
sort  of  work  before  long  ;  that  he  knew  well.  One 
of  the  boats  had  been  sunk,  for  the  wreck  came 
drifting  in  close  to  the  brig's  side.  The  other 
three  could  be  heard  making  off  to  the  ships,  their 
rowing  growing  fainter  every  minute.  Lieutenants 
Worth  and  Johnson  came  aft  to  report. 

"  We  are  in  for  it,  gentlemen,"  said  Reid  ;  "  but 
they  won't  cut  this  vessel  out  without  more  discus- 
sion on  the  subject.  The  idea  of  such  treachery  in 
a  friendly  harbor!  They  received  their  just  deserts." 
His  anger  got  the  better  of  him  for  an  instant,  and 
he  could  say  no  more.  "Poor  Williams!"  he  mur- 
mured at  last.     "  Is  he  badly  hurt  ?  " 

"  He  is  mortally  wounded,  sir,  I  am  afraid,"  Mr. 
Johnson  returned. 

"  A  good  friend  and  a  fine  officer  gone,"  put  in 
Lieutenant  Worth.  "So  much  for  this  night's 
work." 

"  Do  not  fear ;  there'll  be  more  of  it,  and  we'll 
have  our  hands  full,"  Reid  continued.  "  Mr.  John- 
son, you  will    see    that    the    boarding-nettings    are 


138  In  the  Harbor  of  Fayal 

spread,  and  load  the  midship  gun  with  lagrange  and 
a  star  shot.     Have  pikes  and  cutlasses  ready." 

"  Are  you  going  ashore,  sir,  to  see  the  commander 
of  the  fort  ?  He  surely  should  protect  us  ?  "  asked 
Mr.  Worth. 

"  We  need  count  no  longer  on  him,"  was  Reid's 
rejoinder.  "  We  will  have  to  do  our  own  protect- 
ing. See  that  every  musket  and  pistol  is  loaded 
and  laid  handy  and,  stay,"  he  added,  "  cut  away  the 
bulwarks  just  abaft  the  gangway  and  bring  two  of 
those  starboard  guns  across  the  deck.  We  will 
need  them  all,  to  my  way  of  thinking." 

The  crowds  gathered  on  the  shore  could  hear  the 
sounds  of  preparation.  From  the  English  squad- 
ron also  came  a  babble  of  orders  and  movement. 
The  lights  were  doubled  in  number.  Every  port 
shone  brightly.  The  moon  had  now  risen  until 
objects  could  be  seen  quite  plainly. 

"  They  are  preparing  for  an  attack  in  force,"  Reid 
said,  handing  the  glass  to  Mr.  Johnson,  who  had 
already  seen  that  the  boarding-nettings  had  been 
spread  above  the  railing.  The  men  forward  were 
busy  setting  some  spare  spars  to  act  as  booms  to 
keep  the  boats  from  gaining  the  vessel's  bows. 
Time  passed  swiftly.  At  twelve  o'clock  the  oars 
began  again.  But  they  were  not  muffled  now ! 
"  Click,  clock,"  they  came  onward  with  a  rush. 
Voices  could  be  heard  urging  the  rowers  to  more 


In  the   Harbor  of  Fayal  139 

exertion,  as  if  they  were  racing  crews  out  for  a  prac- 
tice spin.     Reid  was  levelling  the  glass. 

"  Ten,  twelve,  thirteen,  fourteen  —  fourteen  boats 
loaded  to  the  guards,"  he  said.  "  God's  love,  there 
must  be  four  hundred  men:  they  mean  to  take 
us  if  they  can."  He  looked  down  at  his  own  little 
deck.  He  had  less  than  ninety  now ;  but  they 
were  ninety  stout,  good  fellows  who  would  not  flinch. 
In  the  rays  of  the  battle  lanterns  and  the  pale  light 
of  the  moon,  Captain  Reid  saw  that  they  were  ready 
to  fight  their  last  fight  maybe. 

It  was  no  time  to  make  a  speech  ;  but  the  men 
could  hear  every  word  he  said  without  gathering 
nearer.  "  Lads,"  he  said,  "  reserve  your  fire  until 
you  get  the  word  from  me.  Don't  waste  a  single 
shot,  and  remember  this:  aim  low.  .  .  .  Cope- 
land  !  " 

"Aye,  aye,  sir  !  " 

"  Cover  that  leading  boat." 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir  !  " 

A  big  pinnace  or  barge,  holding  perhaps  eighty 
men,  was  heading  the  flotilla  by  almost  a  hundred 
feet.  The  grinding  of  a  handspike  on  the  deck 
broke  the  silence,  as  the  Long  Tom  was  slewed  about 
to  bear  upon  her. 

"  Handsomely  now,  men,"  cajoled  Copeland. 
"Handsomely;  that's  well." 

The  great  boat  was  rowing  in  directly  on  that  gun 


140  In  the  Harbor  of  Fayal 

as  if  towed  by  a  line.  She  was  heading  on  to  death 
and  destruction  ! 

Consul  Dabney,  standing  with  the  anxious  crowd 
on  the  shore,  held  his  breath. 

Was  Reid  going  to  submit  to  be  taken  without 
striking  another  blow  ?  Not  much.  With  a  long 
flare  of  flame  that  leaped  from  the  Armstrong  s  side, 
arose  a  great  shout  from  the  spectators. 

The  bow  of  the  pinnace  was  stove  in,  and  she 
pitched  forward  into  the  water  like  an  angry  bull 
brought  to  his  knees  by  a  rifle  shot.  Men  absolutely 
boiled  out  of  her.  The  moonlit  water  was  dotted 
with  black  objects  ;  some  threshing  with  their  arms, 
others  silent  and  motionless.  There  came  a  rattling 
reply  of  small-arms  from  the  boats,  and  the  long 
nines  answered  them.  The  action  was  on  in  earnest. 
No  one  can  gainsay  the  courage  that  was  displayed 
by  the  attacking  force.  They  were  Englishmen ; 
it  is  not  necessary  to  say  more.  The  firing  became 
incessant.  The  men  on  the  Armstrong  had  scarce 
time  to  reload  their  guns.  They  would  snatch  up 
a  pistol  here  and  a  musket  there  and  fire  out  at  the 
water  that  was  crisscrossed  with  the  red  flashes  of 
the  answering  shots.  More  than  once  a  boat  had 
reached  the  side.  On  two  occasions  men  had 
sprung  to  the  bulwarks,  and  clung  to  the  boarding- 
nettings  until  shot  away.  Every  now  and  then  the 
Long  Tom  would  let  go  a  half-bucketful  of  grape  and 


In  the  Harbor  of  Fayal  141 

scrap  iron,  hurling  death  into  the  boats.  Every  one 
of  the  privateer's  crew  seemed  gifted  with  four 
arms.  From  one  point  of  attack  to  another  they 
chased  about  the  deck.  It  seemed  as  if  she  num- 
bered three  times  her  complement.  Bill  Copeland 
was  fighting  like  a  demon.  Twice  had  he  run  along 
the  top  of  the  bulwarks,  exposed  to  every  aim. 
Suddenly  he  saw  that  one  of  the  boats  had  worked 
around  to  the  starboad  side.  Giving  the  alarm,  and 
followed  by  a  half-score  of  the  after-guard,  he  ran 
across  to  meet  this  unexpected  danger.  One  of  the 
men  who  followed  him  caught  up  a  twenty-four- 
pound  solid  shot  in  his  arms  as  he  ran.  Another 
followed  his  example.  Both  shot  crashed  through 
the  bottom  of  the  boat,  and  a  volley  was  poured 
down  into  them.  But  three  or  four  of  the  men 
had  already  reached  the  chains. 

Copeland  sprang  to  the  bulwarks  with  his  cutlass 
in  his  hand.  There  was  a  figure  crawling  up  below 
him.  Leaning  forward,  he  made  a  quick  stroke  that 
would  have  severed  the  man's  throat  had  he  not 
leaned  back  suddenly  and  avoided  it.  Again  he 
drew  back  his  sharpened  cutlass  for  the  death  blow, 
and  then  he  saw  that  the  fellow  was  unarmed. 
Something  stayed  his  hand ;  he  bent  still  further 
forward,  and  just  as  the  Englishman  was  about  to 
fall  back  into  the  water,  he  grasped  him  by  the 
wrist. 


142  In  the  Harbor  of  Fayal 

"  My  God,  Jed !  *'  he  cried,  and  exerting  all  his 
strength  he  dragged  his  prisoner  over  the  rail  on  to 
the  deck.  Those  who  had  time  to  witness  it,  saw 
a  curious  sight.  There  was  Bill  Copeland  holding 
fast  to  another  man,  their  arms  on  each  other's 
shoulders. 

"'Jed,  don't  ye  know  me  ? "  Bill  was  crying ; 
"  but.  Lord  love  ye  lad,  you  're  wounded."  A  shud- 
der went  through  him  as  he  realized  how  close  he 
had  been  to  sending  home  that  fatal  thrust.  The 
man  with  a  pigtail  down  his  back  leaned  forward 
weakly. 

"  Tm  hurted  bad.  Bill,"  he  said.  "  But  go  on 
and  fight;  leave  me  alone;  egad,  you've  whipped 
'em."  Sure  enough,  the  firing  had  now  slackened. 
Four  or  five  of  the  boats  had  retreated  beyond  gun 
shot.      They  were  all  that  could  do  so  unaided. 

"  Cease  firing !  "  ordered  Captain  Reid,  hastening 
about  the  deck.  "  Cease  firing  here  !  They  have 
given  up.  Where  is  Mr.  Johnson  ? "  he  roared, 
pushing  his  way  into  a  group  of  men  who  were 
about  to  reload  one  of  the  nine-pounders.  He  had 
to  cuff  his  way  amongst  them  to  make  them  desist. 
"  Where  is  Mr.  Johnson  ?  "  he  repeated. 

"  He's  wounded,  sir." 

"  And  Mr.  Worth  is  wounded  too,  sir,"  put  in 
another  man.     "  I  helped  him  below  myself." 

As    suddenly   as    the    action    had    begun   it   had 


In  the  Harbor  of  Fayal  143 

ended.  By  the  light  of  a  lantern  Captain  Reid 
glanced  at  his  watch.  It  was  forty  minutes  since  the 
first  gun .  had  been  fired.  He  looked  about  his 
decks.  Although  they  were  littered  with  loose 
running-gear,  handspikes,  cutlasses,  and  muskets,  at 
the  sight  his  heart  gave  a  great  bound  of  joy. 
There  were  no  mangled  figures  or  pools  of  slippery 
blood.      It  seemed  hardly  possible. 

But  from  the  wreckage  in  the  water  came  groans 
and  cries.  He  looked  over  the  side.  There  lay, 
rocking,  two  broken  boats  filled  with  huddled  fig- 
ures, some  moving  weakly. 

"  Here ! "  he  shouted  to  some  of  the  men. 
"  Bear  a  hand  ;  save  all  we  can." 

It  was  a  sudden  transition,  this,  from  taking  life 
to  saving  it ;  but  the  men  turned  to  with  a  will. 
In  one  of  the  boats  twelve  dead  bodies  were  found, 
and  but  seventeen  of  her  crew  had  escaped  with 
their  lives,  and  they  were  all  badly  wounded.  Of 
the  four  hundred  men  who  had  commenced  that 
bold  attack,  only  one-half  returned  to  the  ships  un- 
hurt. Reid  hurried  down  into  the  cockpit.  It 
seemed  past  believing.  But  two  of  bis  men,  including 
the  brave  Williams,  had  been  killed,  and  but  seven 
wounded!     This  is  history. 

But  a  sight  he  saw  attracted  the  Captain's  atten- 
tion. It  was  Bill  Copeland  sitting  on  the  deck,  with 
his  arms  about  a  pale  figure  whose  head  lay  in  Cope- 


144  I^  ^he  Harbor  of  Fayal 

land's  lap.  The  resemblance  between  the  men  was 
striking. 

"What  have  we  here?"  asked  Captain  Reid. 

"  My  brother,  sir,"  Copeland  returned. 

"  Your  brother  !  " 

"  Aye,  sir ;  from  the  Plantaganet.  He  was  the 
only  one  who  got  on  board  of  us  !  " 

The  man  spoke  with  an  accent  of  pride,  and  the 
wounded  one  opened  his  eyes. 

"  Bill,  here,  he  hauled  me  on  board,"  he  said. 

When  the  surgeon  found  time  to  attend  to  Cope- 
land's  wounds,  he  pronounced  them  not  to  be  of  a 
dangerous  character,  and  the  man  was  soon  made 
comfortable. 

All  night  long,  the  Armstrong  s  people  slept  be- 
side their  guns,  but  there  was  no  evidence  of  any 
further  intention  to  attack  on  the  part  of  the  British. 
The  Carnation^  which  was  the  nearest  of  the  vessels 
to  the  privateer,  had  her  boats  out  at  daybreak. 
All  day  long  they  kept  carrying  their  dead  on  shore. 
From  the  Rota  there  were  seventy  funerals  !  But 
the  Armstrong  was  not  left  unmolested.  At  eight 
o'clock  the  Carnation  began  firing  at  close  range. 
For  a  few  minutes.  Captain  Reid  replied  with  some 
effect.  But  resistance  was  useless,  and  at  nine  he 
ordered  all  hands  into  the  boats,  and  made  for  the 
shore,  every  one  arriving  there  in  safety.  He  had 
bored  a  large  hole  in  the  Armstrong  s  bottom,  but 


In  the  Harbor  of  Fayal  145 

before  she  sank,  two  boats  from  the  Carnation  rowed 
out  to  her,  and  the  English  set  her  on  fire.  .  .  . 
The  inhabitants  of  the  town,  all  of  whose  sym- 
pathies were  with  the  Americans,  did  everything  in 
their  power  to  assist  the  wounded,  and  many  were 
the  indignant  protests  against  the  action  of  Captain 
Lloyd,  the  English  senior  officer. 

It  now  came  to  light  that  Mr.  Dabney  had  com- 
plained to  the  commander  of  the  Castle  as  soon  as 
the  firing  had  begun  the  previous  night,  and  that 
the  Portuguese  commander  had  written  a  letter  to 
Lloyd,  but  the  latter's  reply  had  been  only  a  menac- 
ing insult.  So  angry  were  the  English  at  the  fear- 
ful drubbing  they  had  received,  that  they  insisted 
upon  the  government  officials  delivering  the  crew 
of  the  Armstrong  up  to  them,  upon  the  ground  that 
there  were  deserters  among  them.  There  existed, 
between  Portugal  and  England,  a  treaty  that  de- 
manded the  return  of  prisoners  accused  of  high 
treason,  and  Captain  Lloyd,  by  claiming  that  de- 
serters were  guilty  of  this  crime,  had  a  technical 
right  for  examination  of  the  American  refugees. 
.  .  .  But  hearing  the  danger  they  were  in.  Captain 
Reid  and  his  men,  after  securing  some  arms,  barri- 
caded themselves  in  a  small  stone  church,  back  in 
the  country,  where  they  dared  the  Englishmen  to 
come  and  take  them.  It  was  a  difficult  position  for 
them   to   maintain.      If  Captain    Lloyd's  statement 


146  In  the  Harbor  of  Fayal 

was  correct,  then  the  Portuguese  government  was 
bound  to  hand  them  over  as  deserters,  or  place 
themselves  in  a  bad  position  with  England.  After 
a  long  deliberation,  Reid  consented  to  have  his  men 
submit  to  an  examination.  They  were  all  arrested, 
and  brought  to  town,  and  not  a  single  deserter  was 
found  among  them  ! 

But  what  of  Copeland,  the  wounded  prisoner  ? 
He  lay  hidden  in  one  of  the  houses  of  a  friendly 
Portuguese,  and  his  name  was  probably  reported  on 
the  Plantagenet' s  books  as  "missing."  On  the  28th 
of  the  month,  two  British  sloops  of  war,  the  Thais 
and  Clypso,  came  into  port,  and  were  immediately 
sent  back  to  England  with  the  British  wounded. 
The  two  Copeland  brothers  returned  to  the  United 
States,  with  the  rest  of  the  Armstrong  s  crew,  and 
both  served  in  the  navy  for  the  rest  of  the  war. 

The  owners  of  the  Armstrong  attempted  for  many 
years  to  obtain  redress  for  the  loss  of  their  ship. 
Again  and  again  were  they  put  off  and  denied.  But 
in  this  year,  1897,  some  money  was  received,  and 
strange  to  say,  was  paid  to  the  widow  of  the  owner, 
Mr.  Havens.  She  died  but  a  short  time  ago,  at  the 
age  of  ninety-eight,  at  Stamford,  Connecticut. 


THE    ESCAPE    OF    SYMINGTON 


THE    ESCAPE    OF    SYMINGTON 

CAPTAIN  MYRON  SYMINGTON 
was  a  long-legged  Yankee.  There  was  no 
mistaking  him  for  anything  else  but  an 
out-and-out  downeaster.  As  to  the  length  of  his 
underpinning,  that  was  apparent  also.  When  seated, 
he  did  not  appear  above  the  average  height ;  but 
when  erect  he  stood  head  and  shoulders  above  the 
crowd,  so  of  course  it  was  in  his  legs.  Symington 
spoke  English  with  a  lazy  drawl,  and  conversation 
ebbed  from  him  much  after  the  manner  that  smoke 
issues  from  a  tall  chimney  on  a  perfectly  still  day  — 
it  rolled  forth  in  slow  volumes.  But  Symington's 
French  was  very  different ;  he  could  be  clearly 
understood,  for  he  spoke  it  well ;  but  he  discharged 
every  word  like  a  pistol  shot,  and  he  paused  between 
each  sentence  as  if  he  had  to  load  and  prime,  and 
cast  loose  for  the  next. 

Since  the  beginning  of  the  war  Symington  had 
not  been  to  America.  But  he  had  sent  many  mes- 
sages thither ;  and  although  his  headquarters  were  at 
Brest  when  ashore,  and  the  English  Channel  and 
the  Bay  of  Biscay  when  afloat,  his  name  had  become 

149 


150  The  Escape  of  Symington 

well  known  in  the  United  States,  and  he  had  done 
a  thriving  international  business  on  his  own  account 
—  which  may  require  some  explaining. 

The  little  privateer  Rattler  (of  which  he  was  owner 
and  commander)  had  sent  home  no  less  than  twenty 
vessels  that  had  been  snapped  up  when  almost  under 
the  guns  of  England's  coastwise  fortresses.  When- 
ever he  needed  provisioning  or  recruiting,  Syming- 
ton would  make  for  one  of  the  French  ports,  run  the 
blockade  that  the  English  had  established  the  whole 
length  of  the  coast,  drop  his  anchor  in  the  harbor, 
and  then  get  anything  he  chose  for  the  mere  asking 
for  it;  for  Symington's  name  was  as  good  and  in  fact 
better  than  the  promise  of  some  governments.  Years 
before  the  outbreak  of  the  war  Symington  had  com- 
manded the  fastest  and  luckiest  Yankee  craft  engaged 
in  the  European  trade  that  sailed  from  Baltimore  or 
Boston.  He  was  a  good  seaman,  it  was  reputed 
that  he  was  immensely  wealthy,  and  many  believed 
also  that  he  possessed  some  charm  or  fetich  that 
insured  success.  Certainly  it  had  crowned  his 
endeavors  to  divert  the  direction  of  Great  Britain's 
proper  freight  ships. 

Symington  was  sitting  at  a  table  in  one  of  the 
cafes  off  the  Rue  Bonaparte  in  the  city  of  Brest,  and 
he  had  just  finished  a  very  heavy  noonday  meal. 
Suddenly  glancing  up,  he  saw  a  man  go  past  the 
door   leading   from    the    hallway  into    the    garden. 


The   Escape  of  Symington  151 

Lengthening  himself  to  his  full  height  by  a  succes- 
sion of  jerks,  in  a  couple  of  strides  he  had  caught 
the  man  by  the  elbow  and  almost  pulled  him  back 
into  the  room. 

"  Just  back,  ain't  ye,  Captain  Edgar  ?  "  he  drawled. 

"  Post  haste,"  the  man  replied,  "  from  Paris." 

"  Any  news  ?  " 

"Well,  I  should  say  there  was.  By  Hickey, 
Captain,  Napoleon's  jig  is  up  !  Already  the  people 
are  showing  the  white  cockade,  and  those  who  yet 
fly  the  tricolor  have  the  other  in  their  pocket." 

"  So  !  "  exclaimed  Symington,  prolonging  the 
syllable  until  it  sounded  like  a  yawn ;  "  then  our 
friends  the  English  will  have  a  finger  in  the  pie  in 
short  order.  It  is  a  shame  that  they  will  have  to 
break  up  such  a  harmless  and  profitable  business, 
this  Channel  cruising." 

It  was  April  of  the  year  18 14.  Europe  had 
completed  the  humiliation  of  the  little  great  man 
who  had  come  nigh  to  conquering  her,  unaided. 
And  as  soon  as  the  last  of  his  ramparts  were  down, 
any  one  with  common  sense  could  see  what  would 
be  the  outcome  of  it  all.  The  exiled  King,  Louis 
the  Eighteenth,  who  had  been  hiding  in  London, 
v/ould  be  placed  upon  the  throne  !  To  Great  Brit- 
ain more  than  to  any  other  power  he  would  owe 
his  translation  from  debt,  poverty,  and  seclusion 
to   position,  affluence,  and   a  crown.      From   being 


152  The  Escape  of  Symington 

England's  enemy,  France  would  become  her  ally. 
Could  it  be  expected  of  her  to  continue  to  harbor  in 
her  ports  those  ocean  pests,  the  Yankee  privateers, 
who  had  compelled  England  to  give  the  services  of 
two-thirds  of  her  fighting  force  to  convoying  and 
guarding  her  merchant  fleets  ? 

Symington  and  his  friend,  the  short  man,  seated 
themselves  at  a  table  and  continued  the  conversation. 

"  Yd  put  to  sea  to-morrow  if  I  had  enough  of  a 
crew  to  work  the  old  Siren,''  said  the  little  Captain. 
"  I  had  hard  enough  work  getting  into  port  after 
manning  all  my  prizes.  But  if  I  could  get  four 
more  good  hands,  I'd  have  enough." 

"  There  are  just  fourteen  men-o'-war  and  three 
battle-ships  off  the  harbor  mouth,  and  what  chance 
would  ye  have  of  gettin'  through  this  open 
weather  ?  "  grumbled  Symington.  "  We'll  have  to 
wait  until  we  get  a  good  blow  out  of  the  southeast ; 
that'll  scatter  'em,  and  then,  by  Hick,  we  can  make 
a  try  for  it.  Two  weeks  longer,  and  we'll  probably 
have  no  show." 

"  I'll  be  startin'  for  Boston  town  some  dark  night 
this  week.  Captain  Symington,  just  as  soon  as  I  get 
men  enough  to  handle  the  Siren  s  main  sheet,  as  I 
told  ye." 

"And  I,  too.  Captain  Edgar,  as  soon  as  I  get 
enough  hands  to  get  up  the  Rattler  s  anchor.  But 
I'll  choose  my  weather,  sir  !  " 


The  Escape  of  Symington  153 

After  a  few  words  more  the  two  skippers  shook 
hands  and  left  the  cafe,  each  bound  to  the  water- 
front by  a  different  direction.  It  was  certainly  a 
peculiar  position  that  the  Yankee  craft  found  them- 
selves occupying  about  this  time  in  European 
waters.  Sometimes  they  would  be  in  a  port  where 
lay  eight  or  ten  half-dismantled  frigates,  and  over 
twice  as  many  smaller  cruisers  and  merchantmen 
belonging  to  the  Empire,  all  cooped  up  and  kept 
in  there  by  four  or  five  English  sloops  of  war,  or 
perhaps  a  guard  ship  of  fifty  or  sixty  guns  patrolling 
up  and  down  the  harbor  mouth.  On  the  other  side 
of  the  water,  however,  the  English  had  succeeded  in 
blockading  but  one  American  frigate,  the  Constella- 
tion^ early  in  the  war.  Afterwards  for  a  few  months 
they  hemmed  in  the  United  States^  the  Macedonian, 
and  the  little  Hornet  in  the  harbor  of  New  London  ; 
but  what  would  not  the  United  States  have  given  to 
have  possessed  those  thousands  of  idle  guns  that 
lay  in  the  French  naval  stations  ?  She  would  have 
manned  the  helms,  spread  the  sails,  and  put  those 
great  hulks  into  motion.  She  might  even  have 
done  a  little  "  fleet  saihng  "  on  her  own  account. 

But  there  was  some  excuse  for  France.  Napoleon 
had  depleted  his  seacoasts  to  fill  his  armies.  There 
were  not  sufficient  able  seamen  to  answer  the  de- 
mand, and  besides,  so  long  had  the  French  run 
away  from  the    English   at  sea,  that  a  thirty-eight- 


154  The  Escape  of  Symington 

gun  frigate  of  the  Empire  had  been  known  to  escape 
a  meeting  with  a  British  twenty-gun  sloop  by  turning 
tail  and  making  off.  The  French  flag  was  a  rarity 
afloat.  So  every  time  the  Yankee  privateers  entered 
or  left  a  port  it  was  necessary  to  run  the  blockade 
that  the  British  had  established  at  the  entrance. 
As  this  was  the  state  of  the  home  ports  also,  they 
had  become  quite  used  to  it.  Seldom  or  never 
were  they  caught  in  the  act. 

But  the  day  came,  as  the  Yankee  captains  had 
agreed  it  would,  when  Napoleon  succumbed  entirely. 
Out  came  the  white  cockades ;  the  tricolor  disap- 
peared. No  longer  was  it "  the  Emperor,"  but  "  the 
King,"  and  the  first  request  that  England  made  was 
that  the  Yankee  shipping  in  French  ports  should 
be  confiscated  and  the  privateers  detained.  Great 
was  the  consternation  of  the  skippers  ;  some  who 
had  crews  sufficient  in  number  to  man  their  vessels 
put  to  sea  instanter  and  were  taken  in  by  the 
Channel  squadron  forthwith.  Others  remained  wait- 
ing for  the  weather  to  thicken  and  trusting  that 
King  Louis  would  hesitate  long  enough  to  give  them 
a  chance  for  life.  But  the  order  came  at  last.  The 
privateers  were  to  be  allowed  to  leave  the  harbor 
any  time  they  found  a  chance  to  do  so  ;  but  before 
they  left,  the  French  King,  who  was  holding  fast  to 
his  rickety  throne,  and  was  merely  kept  in  place 
by  the   supporting  arms  of   England,  Russia,  and 


The  Escape  of  Symington  155 

Germany,  issued  a  decree.  It  was  to  the  effect  that 
the  vessels  should  sail  unarmed ;  that  their  broadsides 
should  be  taken  from  them,  their  cutlasses  and 
small-arms  removed,  and  thus  shorn  of  their  teeth 
and  claws,  they  should  be  allowed  to  depart.  As 
every  merchantman,  almost  without  exception,  in 
those  days  carried  at  least  four  or  five  guns  handy 
on  the  spar  deck,  this  decree  was  equivalent  to  pre- 
senting them  to  any  English  vessel  that  might  get 
range  of  them.  Before  the  order  could  be  exe- 
cuted more  of  the  vessels  got  to  sea,  and  not  a 
few  were  gobbled  up  at  once  by  the  English 
cruisers ;  some  were  forced  to  put  back  again, 
and  only  one  or  two  ever  reached  the  shores  of 
America. 

The  day  the  news  arrived  early  in  May,  Captain 
Edgar  was  one  of  the  first  to  get  his  anchor  in  and 
make  out  past  the  headland  as  soon  as  dusk  had 
settled.  In  a  few  minutes  Symington,  also,  although 
his  vessel  was  very  short-handed,  was  getting  up  his 
mainsail,  and  he  too  would  have  sailed  no  doubt, 
had  there  not  suddenly  arisen  a  sound  of  firing  from 
the  ofiing.  Of  course  there  being  now  peace  be- 
tween France  and  England,  it  was  possible  for  the 
English  ships  to  anchor  beside  the  Americans  if  they 
had  chosen  to  do  so,  and  in  fact  in  some  of  the 
harbors  so  penned  in  were  the  privateers,  that,  as 
one  captain  expressed  it,  "  they  would  have  to  sail 


156  The  Escape  of  Symington 

across  the  deck  of  a  seventy-four  to  escape  to  sea." 
England  had  respected  the  neutrality  of  the  French 
ports  thus  far ;  but  if  an  American  vessel  was  seen 
preparing  to  get  under  way,  she  would  be  watched 
carefully,  and  if  not  accompanied  by  an  English  ship, 
her  going  out  would  be  signalled  to  the  blockaders  | 
off  the  shore.  As  the  cannonading  was  kept  up  for 
so  long  a  time.  Captain  Symington  supposed,  or  at 
least  hoped,  that  the  Siren  had  escaped  her  enemies. 
Perhaps  the  confusion  that  followed  would  be  a 
good  moment  for  him  to  take  advantage  of,  and  he 
determined  to  sail  out  at  once. 

But  it  was  not  to  be  ;  for  hardly  had  he  got  under 
way  when  he  was  boarded  by  a  cutter  filled  with 
armed  men,  under  the  command  of  a  Frenchman, 
dressed  in  a  voluminous  coat  and  a  huge  cocked 
hat,  who  described  himself  in  a  breathless  sentence 
as  "Monsieur  le  Capitaine  Georges  Binda,  Inspector 
of  the  Port  for  His  Majesty,  King  Louis."  But  a 
few  months  previously  he  had  been  at  Napoleon's 
beck  and  call,  having  been  one  of  the  recruiting 
officers  of  the  district. 

Captain  Symington's  expostulations  were  of  no 
avail,  although  owing  to  his  peculiar  manner  of 
speech,  they  appealed  to  the  whole  harbor. 

His  long  twelve-pounder  was  taken  from  him, 
and  his  neat  little  battery  of  carronades,  six  on  a 
side,  were  confiscated  also.     Before  noon  of  the  next 


The  Escape  of  Symington  157 

day  the  Rattler  had  been  changed  from  a  tiger  cat 
to  a  harmless  kitten. 

The  discomforting  news  also  arrived  that  Captain 
Edgar  had  been  blown  out  of  the  water,  after  he 
had  almost  succeeded  in  getting  past  the  English 
line.  This  was  most  disheartening,  and  that  very 
day  many  of  the  Americans,  despairing  of  ever  get- 
ting free,  attempted  to  dispose  of  their  ships  by  sale. 
But  not  so  with  Symington.  He  determined  not 
to  give  up  until  compelled  to ;  to  hold  out  until  the 
very  last  minute. 

The  Rattler  was  light  in  ballast,  and  in  trim  for 
fast  sailing.  There  were  enough  men  now  on  board 
of  her  to  handle  her  at  a  pinch,  and  she  could  have 
shown  a  clean  pair  of  heels  to  any  one  of  the  Eng- 
lish cruisers  then  afloat.  Although  not  altogether 
a  beauty  to  look  at,  for  she  was  a  comparatively  old 
vessel,  she  was  marvellously  quick  in  stays,  and 
came  about  like  a  sharpie.  In  pointing,  too,  she 
was  a  marvel,  and  once  given  the  windward  gage 
she  could  choose  her  own  distance.  No  man  could 
sail  the  Rattler  the  way  Symington  could,  and  no 
skipper  ever  knew  the  capacities  or  character  of  his 
craft  better  than  did  the  lank  Yankee.  She  was  his 
pet ;  why  give  her  up  to  be  sailed  by  a  lubberly 
Frenchman  ?  The  very  first  chance  he  saw  he  was 
going  to  take.  It  arrived  no  later  than  the  second 
evening  after  the  despoiling. 


158  The  Escape  of  Symington 

The  moon  came  up  early  in  the  morning ;  but 
about  an  hour  or  so  before  the  time  for  her  appear- 
ance a  soft  gray  fog  blew  in  from  the  sea.  At  first 
the  great  outline  of  a  British  troop-ship  close  along- 
side on  the  Rattler  s  port  hand  disappeared  grad- 
ually. Then  the  numerous  anchor  lights  and  the 
lanterns  of  the  town  that  had  been  twinkling  brightly 
in  the  darkness  became  but  hazy  blurs  of  light 
through  the  thickening  mist.  But  when  the  moon 
began  to  cast  her  silvery  light,  a  marvellous  thing 
happened  that  caused  the  second  mate,  who  was  on 
watch,  to  hurry  down  into  the  cabin  and  call  Cap- 
tain Symington  to  the  deck.  The  rays  of  moon- 
light in  the  fog  caused  an  opaque,  impenetrable  veil 
to  surround  the  ship.  So  thick  was  it,  that  the 
sensation  was  as  if  a  white  cloth  had  been  tied  across 
the  eyes.  The  masts  disappeared  a  few  feet  above 
the  deck.  If  one  turned  around,  it  was  impossible 
to  tell  in  which  direction  the  vessel  extended.  The 
Rattler  lay  but  a  few  hundred  feet  astern  of  a  big 
French  brig  that  was  anchored  with  a  stream  anchor 
over  her  side  to  keep  her  from  swinging  in  toward 
a  point  of  rocks  which  was  surmounted  by  a  small 
battery.  As  soon  as  Captain  Symington  reached 
the  deck  he  stepped  across  to  the  bulwarks,  and 
lowering  himself  down  as  far  as  he  could  go  by  the 
chains  he  perceived  what  often  happens  in  thick  | 
weather :  the  fog  was  lifted  some  feet  from  the  sur-     ^ 


The  Escape  of  Symington  159 

face  of  the  water,  and  close  to  the  water  objects 
could  be  discerned  at  some  distance.  There  was 
not  wind  enough  to  sail ;  to  use  the  sweeps  would 
have  called  down  on  him  a  fleet  of  armed  small  craft 
in  an  instant !  Well  he  knew  that  rather  than  see 
him  escape,  the  transport  would  go  afoul  of  him  and 
try  to  explain  matters  afterwards. 

Now  Captain  Symington  had  a  remarkably  re- 
tentive memory.  It  was  said  that  he  never  had  to 
look  at  a  chart  more  than  twice ;  that  he  could  take 
a  vessel  over  shoals  where  he  had  been  only  once 
before,  and  that,  years  previously.  Now  this  gift 
stood  him  in  good  stead.  Just  ahead  of  him  lay 
the  big  French  brig.  Within  a  cable's  length  of 
her,  a  large  French  man-of-war,  but  half  dismantled; 
beyond,  an  English  sloop  ;  then  two  more  vessels. 
Once  outside  of  them,  and  there  was  nothing  to  pre- 
vent him  from  gaining  the  mouth  of  the  harbor  ! 
How  was  it  to  be  done  ?  The  fog  might  last  for  two 
or  three  hours,  and  yet  again  it  might  disappear  at 
any  moment.  But  Symington  was  not  discour- 
aged ;  a  brilliant  idea  came  to  him  ;  the  crew  were 
called  into  the  cabin,  and  there  by  the  dim  light  of 
a  lantern  Captain  Symington  explained  his  plan. 

The  men  listened  in  astonishment.  Many  stories 
of  wonderful  escapes  had  they  heard,  and  many  ad- 
ventures had  they  been  through  ;  but  such  a  bold 
plan  of  action  they  had  never  heard  proposed  before. 


i6o  The  Escape  of  Symington 

When  all  hands  returned  to  the  deck,  there  was 
not  a  sound.  Although  having  almost  to  feel  their 
way,  a  light  new  cable  was  brought  up  and  flaked 
neatly  up  and  down  the  deck.  Then  Captain  Sym- 
ington took  the  end  of  it  into  the  stern  sheets  of 
his  gig,  which  was  silently  dropped  into  the  water, 
and  with  four  men  pulling  at  the  carefully  muffled 
oars  he  made  off  from  beneath  the  bows,  heading 
for  the  big  French  brig,  the  cable  noiselessly  paying 
out  into  the  water  over  the  Rattler  s  bows.  It  did 
not  take  him  long  to  make  fast  to  the  moorings  of 
the  brig.     This  done,  he  waited  anxiously. 

"They  are  heaving  away  now,  sir,"  whispered 
one  of  the  men  in  the  bow  of  the  boat.  Sure 
enough,  the  cable  had  tautened  under  the  strain  that 
was  being  put  upon  it.  Symington  at  first  feared 
that  some  attention  might  be  attracted  on  board  the 
Frenchman  ;  but  there  came  no  sound,  and  he  knew 
that  his  people  on  board  the  Rattler  had  silently 
slipped  moorings  and  that  she  had  way  upon  her. 

On  board  the  privateer's  deck,  barefooted  men 
were  walking  away  with  the  cable  over  their  shoul- 
ders and  causing  their  light  vessel  to  come  boldly 
along  through  the  water.  At  a  certain  length  from 
where  the  cable  was  to  be  made  fast,  a  bit  of  mar- 
line had  been  tied,  and  when  this  came  inboard  the 
orders  were  to  Vast  heaving,  belay,  and  drop  the 
anchor  that  had  been  only  "  hove  short "  ;  that  is, 


The  Escape  of  Symington  i6i 

lifted  from  the  sand.  Soon  this  point  was  reached. 
Symington,  cast  loose,  came  on  board ;  a  second 
cable  was  prepared  and  spliced  to  the  first,  and  off 
he  started  to  make  fast  to  the  next  vessel  lying  far- 
ther out. 

And  thus  did  Symington  warp  himself  beyond 
the  mouth  of  the  inner  harbor  to  a  place  where  he 
considered  it  safe  enough  to  get  out  his  sweeps. 
Manning  these,  for  an  hour  and  more  he  kept  at  it. 
But  it  was  dangerous  work.  The  tides  were  going 
down,  and  although  he  kept  the  lead  going,  he 
might  run  on  one  of  the  sand-bars  at  any  moment. 
That  he  was  well  out  of  the  channel  he  knew  to  a 
certainty.  So  at  last  he  dropped  anchor,  silently, 
and  patiently  waited  for  the  fog  that  had  saved  him 
so  far,  to  clear  up  enough  for  him  to  get  his  bear- 
ings. 

Toward  daylight  a  slight  breeze  sprang  up,  and 
to  his  alarm  Symington  found  that  a  stretch  of  low 
beach  was  under  his  lee,  and  it  behooved  him  well 
to  work  the  Rattler  farther  out.  Getting  sail 
enough  up  to  enable  him  to  trip  his  anchor,  he 
drew  away  from  shore.  Slowly  the  fog  closed  down 
upon  him  again  quite  as  thick  as  it  had  been  some 
hours  previously ;  but  all  at  once  the  First  Mate, 
who  was  forward,  cried  out  in  fright :  — 

"  Starboard  your  helm!     Hard  a  starboard!  '* 

The  Rattler  s  bow  fell  off  a  few  points,  and  at 


M 


1 62  The  Escape  of  Symington 

that  instant  there  came  the  shock  of  a  collision, 
followed  by  a  hail  in  good  sea-faring  English,  seem- 
ingly from  up  in  the  air. 

"  What  are  you  doing  there  ?  What  vessel  is 
that  ?  *'  Then  there  was  some  bawling  and  much 
noise  of  movement  and  another  hail  in  a  voice  that 
had  not  yet  spoken. 

"On  board  that  vessel!  answer  me,  or  I'll  blow 
you  out  of  the  water  !  " 

By  this  time  Captain  Symington  was  firing  off  his 
explosive  French  sentences,  which,  as  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  give  their  full  force  even  in  the  language  in 
which  they  were  spoken,  we  will  translate. 

"  Who  are  you  and  what  are  you  doing  here  ? 
Answer." 

"  The  Cigalle  of  Havre.  I  try  to  get  into  the 
harbor  here." 

There  came  a  laugh  from  the  direction  of  the 
strange  vessel.  "  Strange  sort  of  weather  for  a 
Frenchman  to  be  sailing  in,  sir,"  some  one  observed. 
"  More  than  likely  one  of  the  Yankees  trying  to 
get  out."  ^ 

That  was  exactly  what  Captain  Symington  was  I 
trying  to  do,  but  the  collision  with  the  stranger 
had  carried  away  his  port  cathead,  and  with  it  the 
anchor  had  gone  to  the  bottom.  By  the  effect  of 
this  unfortunate  accident,  and  the  force  of  the  tide, 
which  was  now  against  her,  the  Rattler  s  head  was 


The  Escape  of  Symington  163 

.swung  around  again,  and  before  anything  could  pre- 
vent it,  she  once  more  went  afoul  of  the  big  vessel, 
whose  decks  towered  higher  than  her  cross-trees. 
There  she  hung,  under  the  other's  lee,  while  the 
English  commander,  sometimes  in  French  and  some- 
times in  English,  was  cursing  Symington  for  a 
clumsy  Frenchman  and  threatening  to  send  a  shot 
on  board  of  him. 

It  was  daylight  almost  and  the  wind  was  freshen- 
ing. Clearer  and  clearer  the  outlines  of  the  great 
vessel  could  be  seen. 

She  was  an  English  seventy-four,  that,  trying  to 
xnake  the  harbor,  had  been  headed  off  by  darkness 
and  had  anchored  in  the  roads. 

In  ten  minutes  after  the  breeze  began  to  blow, 
the  air  was  free  from  mist.  There  was  no  use  in 
trying  to  indulge  in  any  deception  now.  The 
character  of  the  small  vessel  had  been  discovered  by 
the  big  one.  A  crowd  of  laughing  officers  lined  the 
rail,  and  on  her  gallery  appeared  a  number  of  ladies 
bound  most  probably  for  the  new  court  of  the  new 
King.  The  wind  was  off  shore.  From  the  shrill- 
ing of  whistles  and  babbling  of  orders  it  was  seen 
that  the  battle-ship  was  getting  under  way.  A  man 
in  gold  lace  leaned  out  over  the  rail  and  said  in  an 
off-hand  manner :  — 

"  On  board  the  Yankee  there !  Keep  under  our 
lee  and  return  to  the  harbor,  or  we'll  sink  you   in- 


164  The  Escape  of  Symington 

stantly ;  play  no  tricks,  if  you  value  your  safety . 
Mark  you  that." 

Why  it  was  that  the  Englishman  did  not  drop  a 
boat  and  put  a  prize  crew  on  board  the  Rattler,  it 
might  be  hard  to  guess.  Symington  feared  that 
this  would  happen,  and,  although  he  gave  no  an- 
swer to  the  imperious  order,  he  set  about  obeying 
it  with  every  evidence  of  haste  and  alacrity. 

But  such  clumsy  work  had  never  been  seen  before 
on  board  a  Yankee  privateer.  Often  in  naval  actions 
in  the  old  sailing  days,  when  orders  were  blared 
through  a  speaking-trumpet,  and  not  given  by  little 
electric  bells  and  signals,  as  now  we  have  them,  the 
"  rule  of  contrary  "  was  passed  in  order  to  deceive 
the  enemy  who  might  overhear  and  thus  anticipate. 

"  Hard  a  port  "  meant  "  hard  a  starboard."  A 
vessel  that  was  supposed  to  be  on  the  point  of  luff- 
ing would  bear  away,  sheets  flying. 

Now,  on  board  the  Rattler,  although  no  such 
order  had  been  passed,  the  men  had  understood 
well  enough  the  whispered  word.  It  is  a  well- 
known  fact  that  the  fore-and-aft  rig  was  best  under- 
stood in  America,  where  it  had  really  been  brought 
to  perfection.  The  English,  after  they  had  capt- 
ured a  vessel  of  the  Rattler  s  class,  never  succeeded 
in  getting  the  same  sailing  qualities  out  of  her,  and 
the  upshot  of  it  was  that  they  generally  changed  her 
rigging  and  cut  down  her  masts  and  sail  plan.     But 


The  Escape  of  Symington  165 

no  crew  was  ever  clumsier  than  was  the  privateer's 
on  this  occasion.  They  tumbled  over  one  another, 
they  got  the  halliards  twisted,  they  pretended  to  be 
breaking  their  backs  in  getting  in  the  anchor  when 
they  were  not  lifting  a  pound,  and  all  the  time  the 
First  Mate  was  running  hither  and  thither  like  the 
busy  man  at  the  circus,  chattering  a  jargon  made  up 
of  scraps  of  Portuguese,  Dutch,  and  Spanish,  while 
above  all  the  confusion.  Captain  Symington's  explo- 
sive French  adjectives  rang  out  like  snaps  of  a  whip. 

There  had  not  been  the  least  doubt  in  the  Eng- 
lish officers'  minds  a  moment  since  that  the  little 
vessel  they  were  looking  down  upon  was  an  Ameri- 
can ;  but  now  they  were  somewhat  puzzled,  and  the 
whole  scene  was  so  laughable  that  very  soon  the 
taffrail  was  lined  again  with  a  tittering  crowd,  who 
discussed,  in  very  audible  tones,  their  varying 
opinions. 

But  lazily  the  great  ship  was  swinging  about  with 
a  great  creaking  of  yards  and  flapping  of  sails. 
Soon  she  was  moving  through  the  water.  A  few 
minutes  later  and  the  Rattler  was  in  her  wake,  and 
Captain  Symington,  who  certainly  did  not  look 
French,  despite  his  wonderful  vocabulary,  made  a 
proud  and  elaborate  bow,  and  lifted  his  great  beaver 
hat  to  the  ladies  who  were  now  on  the  quarter-deck 
enjoying  the  sight. 

But  if  the  English  officers  had  been  puzzled  at 


1 66  The  Escape  of  Symington 

first  and  amused  afterwards,  there  was  one  person 
on  board  H.  M.  S.  Ajax  who  had  enjoyed  the 
same  sensations  in  a  more  intensified  fashion.  He 
was  looking  out  of  one  of  the  stern  ports  on  the 
lower  gun-deck.  A  short,  thickset  man,  who  did 
not  belong  to  the  battle-ship's  company,  for  he  was 
a  prisoner.  It  was  Captain  Edgar,  and  it  was  the 
Ajax  that  had  picked  up  the  Siren  in  a  sinking  con- 
dition after  she  had  sustained  the  fusillade  of  two 
nights  previously.  But  every  foot  the  Rattler 
sailed  brought  her  further  into  the  harbor  and  les- 
sened the  ultimate  chances  for  escape.  But  that 
there  was  a  plan  in  Captain  Symington's  mind, 
Edgar  did  not  doubt.  He  knew  that  the  Rattler 
was  as  handy  as  a  whip,  and  he  kept  his  eyes  open 
for  any  sudden  development.  He  did  not  have  to 
wait  long ;  there  came  an  unexpected  shift  of  the 
wind  more  to  the  southward  just  as  the  Ajax  was 
slowly  heaving  about  to  go  oflF  on  the  other  tack. 
It  caught  her  all  aback ;  the  great  sails  clattered, 
and  her  headway  stopped.     She  had  missed  stays. 

It  is  no  laughing  matter  for  a  big  ship  to  have 
this  happen  to  her  when  approaching  a  harbor  or 
nearing  shallow  water.  At  once  the  boatswain's 
whistle  began  piping  away ;  orders  were  shouted, 
and  there  was  trouble  below  and  aloft. 

But  what  happened  to  the  clumsily  handled  craft 
astern  ?     She  was  immediately  under  the  port  gal- 


"She  came  about  like  a  peg-top.' 


The  Escape  of  Symington  167 

IcrieSj  within  half  a  cable's  length,  doddering  along 
under  foresail  and  mainsail.  At  the  first  sign  of 
what  had  occurred  to  the  battle-ship  there  ensued 
a  transformation  scene. 

Have  you  ever  seen  an  unwilling  dog  accompany- 
ing its  master  on  a  walk  ?  how  he  sneaks  close  at 
the  heels,  watching  his  chance  when  the  attention 
is  not  directed  to  him  ?  How  suddenly  he  turns 
tail,  and  after  a  few  cautious  movements  that  bring 
him  beyond  the  reach  of  stick  or  arm,  he  breaks 
into  a  run  at  full  speed,  disdaining  call  or  whistle, 
and  puts  back  for  home  ?  That  is  exactly  what  the 
Rattler  did.  Scarcely  had  the  canvas  of  the  Ajax 
begun  the  ominous  fluttering  that  showed  the  change 
of  the  wind's  direction,  than  the  privateer  swung  off 
to  meet  it. 

Slowly  at  first  and  then  with  a  rush  she  came 
about  like  a  peg  top.  Without  an  order  being 
given,  out  broke  the  great  foresail,  the  topsails 
dropped  from  the  gaskets  and  were  sheeted  home, 
and  with  a  lurch  to  leeward  the  Rattler  stretched 
out  back  over  her  course  for  the  harbor  entrance, 
setting  her  flying  kites  as  she  bowled  along ! 

So  busy  was  everybody  on  board  the  three-decker, 
who  had  troubles  of  her  own  to  look  after,  that  no 
one  noticed  the  sudden  manoeuvre  of  the  privateer; 
no  one  except  one  of  the  ladies  who  happened  to  be 
the  wife  of  the  Admiral,  for  the  Ajax  was  a  flag- 


1 68  The  Escape  of  Symington 

ship.  She,  after  a  minute,  succeeded  in  attracting 
the  attention  of  one  of  the  lieutenants,  who  with  the 
rest  had  gone  forward  to  the  break  of  the  poop  and 
was  watching  what  was  going  on  below  and  above 
him. 

"The  Httle  ship,"  she  inquired  innocently,  "where 
is  she  going  ?  '* 

The  officer  turned  and  immediately  had  to  beg 
the  lady's  pardon  most  abjectly,  for  he  broke  forth 
into  an  oath. 

"  Tricked,  after  all !  "  he  exclaimed,  grasping  one 
of  his  companions  by  the  arm  and  pointing. 

But  there  was  one  other  person  who  had  noticed 
all  these  goings  on.  It  was  the  prisoner  on  the 
lower  spar-deck. 

"  You  can  soak  me  for  a  squilgee  if  that  weren't 
neat,"  he  chuckled,  and  then  lifting  his  hands  to  his 
cheeks,  he  roared  out  something  through  the  port. 

The  Rattler  s  Captain,  who  was  at  the  wheel,  had 
jumped  as  if  the  Ajax  had  suddenly  whirled  about 
and  let  fly  a  broadside  at  him,  for  he  heard  the  words 
as  plain  as  could  be. 

"  Good-by,  Captain  Symington !  Give  my  re- 
gards to  all  at  home  !  " 

He  recognized  his  old  friend  Edgar's  voice,  and 
it  gave  him  a  thrill  of  pleasure  to  know  that  he  was 
alive  even  if  he  was  a  prisoner. 

The  Ajax  was  still  in  stays ;  but  her  commander 


The  Escape  of  Symington  169 

found  time  to  fire  his  battery  of  stern-chasers,  the 
balls  whistling  harmlessly  past  the  Rattler  s  stern, 
missing  her  widely.  In  reply  to  this  Captain  Sym- 
ington again  lifted  his  old  beaver  hat. 

Far  away  to  the  leeward  were  the  sails  of  the 
blockading  squadron.  Attracted  by  the  firing  of  the 
^jax^  they  flew  their  little  flags  and  crowded  on  their 
canvas.  But  by  this  time  the  Rattler  had  doubled 
the  point  and  was  making  out  into  the  dancing 
waters  of  the  Channel.  And  who  was  going  to 
touch  her  where  she  had  sea-room  ?  As  if  anxious 
to  have  everything  understood,  Symington  raised 
his  ensign.  The  English  captain,  who  had  been 
forced  to  boxhaul  his  great  vessel  in  order  to  avoid 
running  on  the  shoals,  cursed  beneath  his  breath. 
One  of  the  ladies  turned  to  the  Admiral's  wife. 

"I  wonder  why  we  did  not  start  after  her, 
Madame  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  because  we  couldn't  turn  round  quick 
enough,  I  suppose,"  she  rejoined.  Then  turning  to 
her  spouse  she  asked:  — 

"  Was  not  that  it.  Sir  John  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  responded  the  Admiral,  grimly  ; 
"  that  was  just  it." 

Down  below.  Captain  Edgar  had  not  yet  recov- 
ered from  his  laughing  fit ;  and  when  he  and  Cap- 
tain Myron  Symington  met  again,  as  they  did  many 
times  afterwards,  they  used  to  laugh  over  it  together. 


THE   NARRAGANSETT 


THE    NARRAGANSETT 

"  rnp^WENTY  of  those  confounded  Yankees 
I  give  me  more  trouble  than  three  decks 
full  of  Frenchmen,"  remarked  Captain 
Brower  of  the  prison-ship  Spartan,  one  of  the  fleet 
of  dismantled  battle-ships  that  thronged  the  har- 
bor of  Plymouth,  England. 

Lieutenant  Barnard,  commanding  the  neat  little 
sloop  of  war  Sparrow,  then  on  the  guard  station, 
laughed. 

"  They  are  troublesome  beggars,  sure  enough," 
he  said ;  "  but  the  funny  thing  is  that  they  behave 
almost  exactly  the  way  our  fellows  do,  or  at  least 
would  under  the  same  circumstances ;  that  I  verily 
believe." 

"Well,  such  insolence  and  impudence  I  never 
saw  in  my  life,"  returned  Brower.  "  I  shall  be  glad 
when  I  get  rid  of  this  last  batch  and  will  rest  easy 
when  they  have  been  sent  ashore  to  Dartmoor. 
You  should  have  seen  the  way  they  behaved  about 
two  weeks  ago.  Let  me  see,  it  was  the  evening  of 
the  fourth,  I  believe.     In  fact  the  whole  day  through 

^73 


174  The  Narragansett 

they  were  at  it  —  skylarking  and  speech-making 
and  singing." 

It  was  July,  1 8 14.  Many  vessels  in  the  govern- 
ment service  of  Great  Britain,  returning  from  America, 
or  from  the  high  seas,  brought  into  Plymouth  crews 
of  American  vessels,  and  not  a  few  of  the  troops 
captured  about  the  Lakes  and  on  the  Canadian 
frontier  had  been  brought  over  also.  They  were 
usually  kept  on  board  one  of  the  prison  hulks  for 
three  or  four  months ;  sometimes  it  was  a  year  or 
more  before  they  were  transferred  to  the  military 
prisons,  the  largest  of  which  was  situated  at  Dart- 
moor, and  the  second  in  size  at  Stapleton,  not  far 
from  the  town  of  Gloucester.  Although  the  prison- 
ships  and  the  prisons  themselves  were  crowded  with 
Frenchmen,  the  Yankees  were  three  or  four  times 
as  much  trouble  to  control  and  to  command.  When 
they  were  not  planning  to  escape,  they  were  generally 
bothering  the  sentinels,  drawing  up  petitions,  or 
having  some  row  or  other,  if  only  for  the  fun  of 
turning  out  the  guard. 

"  I  wish  somebody  else  had  this  position," 
grumbled  Captain  Brower,  pouring  out  a  glass  of 
port.  "  I  don't  think  that  I  was  made  for  it. 
When  I  am  left  alone,  I  am  liable  to  become  too 
lenient,  and  when  I  am  angered,  perhaps  I  may  be 
too  hasty.  ...  At  any  rate,  I  wish  some  one  else 
was  here  in  my  place.  ...     I    had  to  laugh  the 


The  Narragansett  175 

other  day,  though ;  you  know  old  Bagwigge  of  the 
Germanicus^  here  alongside,  what  a  hot-tempered, 
testy  old  fellow  he  is  ?  Well,  the  other  day  he  was 
walking  up  and  down  his  old  quarter-deck,  and 
about  fourscore  of  my  Yankee  prisoners  were  up 
on  deck  for  air  and  exercise.  Suddenly  they  began 
singing.  Now,  I  don't  object  to  that ;  if  they'd 
never  do  anything  worse,  I'd  be  happy.  They've 
only  cut  four  holes  through  different  parts  of  this 
ship,  and  once  well-nigh  scuttled  her ;  but  never 
mind ;  to  go  on :  Bagv/igge,  he  walks  to  the  side 
and  shouts  across  to  my  vessel  :  '  Hi,  there  !  you 
confounded  Yankees  !  avast  that  everlasting  row.' 
I  didn't  see  that  it  was  any  of  his  business,  as  it  was 
on  my  own  ship;  but  the  Yankees  —  I  wish  you  had 
seen  them,  Barnard,  upon  my  soul." 

"  What  did  they  do  ?  Slanged  him,  I  suppose, 
terrible." 

"Well,  you  see,"  continued  Captain  Brower,  "the 
potatoes  had  just  been  given  out  for  the  use  of  the 
prison  mess  cooks,  and  three  big  baskets  of  them 
lay  there  on  the  deck.  One  of  the  Yankees  threw 
a  potato  that  caught  old  Captain  B.  fair  and  square 
on  the  side  of  his  head,  capsizing  his  hat  and  nearly 
fetching  away  his  ear.  '  You  insolent  villains  ! '  he 
cried,  almost  jumping  up  on  the  rail, '  I'll  make  you 
sweat  your  blood  for  this.'  Well,  ha,  ha,  not  only 
one  potato  was  thrown  this  time,  but  about  half  a 


1^6  The  Narragansett 

bushel,  r  faith,  but  those  rascals  were  good  shots. 
Old  Bagwigge,  he  was  raked  fore  and  aft.  Turning, 
he  ran  for  it,  and  dove  in  the  cabin." 

The  younger  man  laughed.  The  officer  about 
whom  the  tale  had  been  told  was  not  popular  in  the 
service.  He  had  had  no  Americans  on  board  his 
prison  hulk,  and  the  Frenchmen  who  were  tempo- 
rarily his  guests  trembled  at  his  frown  and  cringed 
at  his  gesture.  He  was  an  overbearing,  hot- 
tempered  martinet,  and  was  hated  accordingly.  But 
this  was  not  the  end  of  Captain  Brower's  story,  and 
as  soon  as  the  Lieutenant  had  stopped  laughing,  he 
resumed :  — 

"  Let  me  go  on,  for  I  haven't  finished  yet.  When 
Bagwigge  returned,  he  had  with  him  a  file  of  marines. 
Up  he  marches  'em,  and  the  Yankees  greeted  them 
with  a  cheer,  and  then  seeing  that  the  Captain  was 
going  to  speak  to  them,  they  desisted  to  let  him  talk. 

'  Now,'  he  said,  '  you  impudent  scoundrels,  be- 
low with  you  ;  every  mother's  son  of  you,  or  I'll  — ' 
He  hadn't  got  any  farther  than  that  when  the  same 
fellow  who  threw  the  first  potato  hit  him  again. 
He  was  only  about  forty  feet  away,  you  know,  and 
with  such  force  was  the  vegetable  thrown  that  it 
nearly  took  his  head  off  his  shoulders.  '  Fire  ! '  he 
roared.  '  Fire  at  them ! '  I  doubt  whether  the 
marines  could  have  taken  aim,  they  were  so  busy 
dodging  potatoes,  and  as  for  Bagwigge  himself,  he 


The  Narragansett  177 

was  jumping,  bubbling,  and  sizzling  like  a  blob  of 
butter  in  a  skillet.  I  rushed  forward  and  jumped 
on  to  the  forecastle  rail. 

" '  If  you  dare  fire.  Captain  Bagwigge,'  1  cried, 
'  you'll  swing  for  it ! '  At  this,  he  dove  down  the 
companionway  again,  with  his  marines  after  him.  I 
turned  to  the  prisoners  and  ordered  them  below, 
where  they  went  readily  enough.  As  to  Bagwigge, 
I  don't  suppose  that  I'll  hear  from  him  again ;  I 
hope  that  he  will  attend  to  his  own  vessel  and 
leave  mine  alone." 

All  this  conversation,  or  at  least  the  relation  of 
Captain  Brower's  story,  had  taken  place  in  the 
Spartan  s .  cabin,  and  when  the  two  officers  left,  a 
detail  of  the  prisoners  was  on  the  deck,  walking 
briskly  back  and  forth  under  the  eyes  of  armed 
sentries,  who  guarded  the  gangways  and  patrolled 
narrow  board  walks,  raised  some  two  or  three  feet 
above  the  hammock-nettings. 

"  Do  you  see  that  tall,  brown  fellow,  there } " 
asked  Captain  Brower,  pointing.  "  He  is  the  one 
who  did  such  sharp  shooting  with  the  potatoes." 

"A  strange-looking  creature,  surely,"  responded 
the  Commander  of  the  Sparrow,  "He  looks  a  half- 
tamed  man.  Well,  I  wish  you  less  trouble  and  all 
success.  Good  day  to  you ;  I  have  to  return  to 
my  ship." 

Brower    turned    and   went   back  into   his   cabin. 


178  The  Narragansett 

Although  he  did  not  know  it,  and  would  have 
denied  it  if  he  had  been  told  the  truth,  he  was  ex- 
actly the  man  for  the  position,  for  he  was  just  and 
painstaking,  humane  and  careful.  Although  there 
had  been  all  sorts  of  attempts  to  escape  formulated 
among  the  Yankees,  and  almost  carried  into  suc- 
cessful execution,  Brower  had  not  lost  a  single  pris- 
oner, and  his  presence  among  them  could  restore 
order  and  quell  a  disturbance  better  than  the  parad- 
ing of  a  file  of  soldiers. 

They  were  a  strange  lot,  these  captives.  They 
came  from  all  walks  of  life,  and  from  every  sort  of 
place.  Raw  militiamen,  who  had  been  surrendered 
by  Hull  (the  army  Hull,  mark  you,  not  the  brave 
Commodore),  privateersmen,  captured  in  all  sorts 
of  crafts  and  dressed  in  all  fashions,  but  now  princi- 
pally in  rags,  and  men-of-warsmen  who  had  given 
themselves  up  while  serving  on  board  English  ships 
rather  than  fight  against  their  country.  These  last 
held  themselves  rather  aloof  from  the  others  and 
messed  by  themselves.  Poor  devils,  they  had  never 
had  the  satisfaction,  even,  of  having  struck  a  blow. 
They  had  turned  from  one  kind  of  slavery  to  an- 
other ;  that  was  all. 

The  tall,  odd-looking  figure  that  Captain  Brower 
had  pointed  out,  belonged  to  the  wildest  mess  on 
the  orlop  deck.  His  appearance  might,  perhaps, 
be  called  startling ;  he  was  far  from  ill-looking,  with 


The  Narragansett  179 

straight  aquiline  features,  deep-set  and  quick  black 
eyes  that  could  laugh  or  look  cruel  almost  at  the 
same  moment.  His  teeth  were  beautifully  white 
and  even,  and  although  he  was  not  heavy  or  com- 
pact looking,  he  was  as  strong  almost  as  any  two 
other  men  on  board  the  ship.  He  spoke  English 
without  an  accent,  but  with  an  odd  form  and  phras- 
ing that  would  have  attracted  attention  to  him  any- 
where. His  clear  skin  was  the  color  of  new  copper 
sheathing,  and  his  straight  black  hair  that  was  gath- 
ered sailor  fashion  into  a  queue  was  as  coarse  as  a 
horse's  mane.  The  grandson  of  a  chief  he  was, 
a  descendant  of  the  line  of  kings  that  had  ruled  the 
Narragansett  tribes  —  a  full-blooded  Indian.  But 
he  rejoiced  in  no  fine  name.  A  sailor  before  the 
mast  he  had  been  since  his  sixteenth  year,  and  he 
had  appeared  on  the  books  of  the  privateer  brig 
Teaser  as  John  Vance,  A.B.  It  is  a  wrong  sup- 
position that  an  Indian  will  never  laugh  or  that  he 
is  not  a  fun-maker.  John  Vance  was  constantly 
skylarking,  and  he  was  a  leader  in  that,  as  he  was 
in  almost  all  the  games  of  skill  or  strength.  Every 
one  liked  him,  and  to  a  certain  extent  he  was 
feared,  for  a  tale  was  told  in  which  John  and  a 
knife  figured  extensively.  The  flash  that  would 
come  into  his  eye  gave  warning  often  when  the 
danger  Hmit  was  being  approached,  yet  he  was  pop- 
ular, and  even  the  detested  marine   guard   treated 


i8o  The  Narragansett 

him  with  some  deference.  In  the  last  attempt  to 
escape,  the  Narragansett  had  been  captured  after  he 
had  swum  half-way  to  the  shore  and  had  dived  more 
than  twenty  times  to  escape  musket-balls  from  the 
guard-ships.  Suddenly  the  order  came  "  Prisoners 
below"  —  and  the  ship-bell  struck  eight  sonorous 
strokes.  As  the  last  four  or  five  men  left  the  deck, 
the  Indian  touched  one  of  them  upon  the  shoulder. 
"  Watch  me,"  he  said,  "  and  say  nothing." 
There  was  a  narrow  door  in  a  bulkhead  close  to 
the  companionway,  but  out  of  reach  unless  there 
was  something  like  a  box  or  barrel  on  which  to 
stand.  It  was  closed  by  a  padlock  thrust  through 
two  iron  staples.  As  John  descended,  he  caught 
the  combing  of  the  hatch  and  drew  himself  up  to  a 
level  with  his  chin.  Holding  himself  there  with 
one  arm,  he  reached  forward  and  caught  the  pad- 
lock in  his  brown,  sinewy  fingers.  Slowly  he 
turned  his  hand.  The  iron  bent  and  gave  a  little. 
A  grin  crossed  his  face.  Swinging  himself  forward, 
he  landed  on  a  man's  shoulders  beneath  him,  and 
with  a  wild  warwhoop  he  tumbled  a  half-dozen 
down  the  rest  of  the  ladder,  and  they  sprawled  in  a 
heap  on  the  deck.  Disdaining  to  notice  the  half- 
humorous  curses,  he  sprang  to  his  feet.  Three 
other  men  who  belonged  to  his  mess  followed  him. 
Can  you  do  it.  Red  ? "  asked  one. 
Yes,  surely,"  John  replied.  "  So  I  can  to-night." 


The  Narragansett  i8i 

The  whole  of  the  gun-deck  forward  of  the  fore- 
castle hatch  had  been  divided,  by  a  strong  partition, 
into  a  sort  of  storeroom.  There  was  one  entrance 
into  it  from  above  from  the  topgallant  forecastle, 
where  part  of  the  marine  guard  were  stationed,  and 
the  other  opening  onto  the  hatchway^  to  be  used  in 
case  of  emergency. 

It  was  just  past  the  midnight  watch  when  four 
stealthy  figures  crept  out  from  the  shadows  into  the 
light  of  the  dingy  lantern  that  hung  at  the  foot  of 
the  companionway.  At  night  there  was  only  one 
sentry  stationed  there,  and  he  generally  sat  halfway 
up  the  ladder,  and  it  was  impossible  for  the  prisoners 
to  tell  without  crossing  the  dead-line  that  was  drawn 
at  night  whether  he  was  asleep  or  not.  This  was 
the  risk  that  had  to  be  undertaken ;  for  if  the  man 
should  see  any  one  pass  beneath  that  old  rope  that 
was  drawn  across  the  deck,  he  would  have  a  right  to 
fire.  If  the  fellow  was  asleep,  yet  to  gain  the  deck 
above,  the  venturesome  prisoner  would  have  to  pass 
within  arm's  length  of  him. 

Perhaps  John  Vance  had  inherited  from  his  long 
line  of  red  ancestors  the  peculiar  knack  of  moving 
without  sound,  the  art  of  crawling  on  his  belly  like 
a  snake,  perhaps  he  had  a  acquired  it  by  constant 
practice  since  he  had  been  a  prisoner.  For  it  was 
his  boast,  and  one  that  had  been  proved  to  be  true, 
that  contrary  to  rules  he  had  visited  every  part  of 


1 82  The  Narragansett 

the  ship,  and  after  hours ;  as  has  been  told,  he 
had  been  retaken  a  number  of  times  when  just  on 
the  point  of  making  good  his  escape. 

The  three  seamen  who  accompanied  him  on  this 
occasion  could  see  the  legs  of  the  sentry  from  the 
knee  down,  as  he  sat  on  the  steps  of  the  ladder  lead- 
ing to  the  berth-deck  above.  They  could  also  see 
the  butt  of  his  musket  as  it  rested  beside  him. 
Vance  had  disappeared  in  the  black  shadow  that 
lay  along  the  starboard  side,  and  now  the  watchers 
saw  a  curious  thing  take  place.  The  sentry's  mus- 
ket suddenly  tilted  forward,  as  if  of  its  own  voUticn, 
and  then  disappeared  backward  into  the  darkness, 
without  a  sound,  much  in  the  manner  of  a  vanishing 
slide  in  a  magic  lantern.  The  man's  legs  did  not 
move. 

"  He  is  asleep,"  whispered  Ned  Thornton  to 
Bill  Pratt. 

"  He's  asleep,"  reiterated  Bill  Pratt  to  Gabe  Sack- 
ett,  who  made  the  fourth  one  of  the  "  constant 
plotters,"  as  they  were  termed  by  the  other  prisoners. 

But  in  one  minute  that  sentry  was  seen  to  be  very 
wide  awake  indeed.  That  is,  if  movement  signified 
wakefulness.  His  legs  shot  out  in  two  vicious  and 
sudden  kicks.  A  hand,  with  wide-spread,  reaching 
fingers,  stretched  out  as  if  searching  for  the  missing 
musket.  The  man  wriggled  from  one  side  to  an- 
other and  floundered  helplessly,  with  his  body  half- 


The  Narragansett  183 

way  off  the  edge  of  the  ladder.     But  not  one  sound 

did  he  utter ! 

"  Red's  got  hold  of  him,"  croaked  Thornton,  and 
with  the  assurance  of  hunters  who  had  watched  their 
quarry  step  into  the  trap  that  held  him  fast,  they 
stepped  forward  without  fear  or  caution. 

It  was  as  Thornton  had  said.  The  poor  sentry's 
head  was  wedged  against  the  steps.  Around  his 
throat  were  clasped  the  fingers  of  two  sinewy, 
bronze-colored  hands  that  held  the  victim  as  closely 
and  in  as  deadly  a  clasp  as  might  the  strap  of  the 
Spanish  garrote.  The  scene  was  really  horrible. 
Sackett  leaned  about  the  edge  of  the  ladder,  and 
then  he  saw  what  a  wonderful  thing  the  Narragan- 
sett had  done.  The  combing  of  the  hatchway  was 
fully  six  feet  from  where  the  sentry  sat.  Below 
yawned  the  black  abyss  into  the  mid-hold.  Across 
this  Vance  had  been  forced  to  lean,  balancing  him- 
self with  one  hand  when  he  relieved  the  sentry  of  his 
musket,  and  then  springing  forward  he  had  caught 
him  from  behind,  about  the  throat.  There  the 
Indian  hung  as  a  man  might  hang  over  the  mouth 
of  a  well.  No  wonder  the  unfortunate  marine  had 
been  unable  to  cry  out ! 

"  Let  go  of  him.  Red,"  whispered  Gabe.  "You've 
choked  him  enough."  The  Indian  stretched  out 
one  of  his  feet  and  hooked  it  over  the  hatch  comb- 
ing.    With  a  supple  movement  and  without  a  stum- 


184  The  Narragansett 

ble,  he  stood  erect  upon  the  deck.  The  sentry 
would  have  plunged  over  into  the  hold,  had  not  the 
two  others  grasped  him  firmly  by  the  shoulders. 
They  carried  him  to  one  side  and  laid  him  in  the 
deep  shadow  against  a  bulkhead.  He  was  breathing, 
but  insensible. 

The  rest  of  the  escape  can  be  told  in  a  few  words : 
The  lock  of  the  door  leading  into  the  storeroom 
was  wrenched  away,  and  noiselessly  the  four  entered, 
closing  it  behind  them.  They  had  been  just  in 
time,  for  they  could  hear,  on  the  deck  above,  the 
new  watch  coming  on.  A  port  on  one  side  of  the 
storeroom  was  guarded  by  three  flimsy  iron  bars. 
There  was  enough  light  outside  from  the  young 
moon  to  show  the  direction  of  the  opening. 

Vance  bent  the  irons  double  at  the  first  attempt. 
They  were  almost  twenty  feet  above  the  water,  for 
the  old  hulk  floated  high.  But  everything  seemed 
working  for  the  furtherance  of  their  plan.  There 
was  a  new  coil  of  rope  on  the  deck,  and  looking  out 
of  the  port  right  beneath  them,  they  could  see  a 
ship's  dingy  with  the  oars  in  it.  Sackett  slid  down 
first ;  the  other  two  followed,  and  Vance  remained 
until  the  last.  No  sooner  had  he  made  the  boat  in 
safety  than  a  great  hubbub  and  confusion  sounded 
through  the  ship.  There  came  a  sharp  blare  of  a 
bugle,  the  rolling  of  the  alarm  drum,  and  they 
could  hear  the  slamming  of  the  heavy  hatches  that 


The  Narragansett  185 

prevented  communication  from  one  part  of  the 
vessel  to  the  other.  The  prisoners,  cooped  up 
below,  knew  what  it  all  meant.  Some  one  was  out, 
and  there  in  the  pitch  darkness  they  fell  to  cheering. 

But  to  return  to  the  "constant  plotters,"  in  the 
dingy  :  they  had  made  but  a  dozen  boat's-lengths 
when  they  were  discovered,  for  there  was  light 
enough  to  see  objects  a  long  distance  across  the 
water.  There  came  a  quick  hail,  followed  by  a 
spurt  of  flame. 

"  Lord !  "  Pratt,  who  was  pulling  stroke  oar  with 
Sackett  alongside  of  him,  groaned  ;  "  I  caught  that 
in  the  shoulder."  One  of  his  arms  drooped  help- 
lessly, but  he  continued  rowing  with  the  other. 

"  Let  go,"  grunted  Sackett ;  "  I  can  work  it  alone 

—  lie  down  in  the  stern  sheets." 

There  were  three  or  four  vessels,  mostly  prison 
or  sheer  hulks,  to  be  passed  before  they  gained 
the  shore.  From  each  one  there  came  a  volley. 
Poor  Sackett  received  a  ball  through  his  lungs  and 
fell  into  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  bleeding  badly. 
And  now  the  boats  were  after  them  ! 

Vance  and  Thornton  pulled  lustily  at  the  oars ; 
but  the  others  gained  a  foot  in  every  four.  The 
dingy  was  splintered  by  the  hail  of  musket-balls. 
One  of  the  prison  hulks  —  the  last  they  had  to  pass 

—  let  go  a  carronade  loaded  with  grape.  It  awoke 
the    echoes   of  the    old   town.     So    close    was    the 


1 86  The  Narragansett 

charge  delivered  that  it  had  hardly  time  to  scatter, 
arid  churned  the  water  into  foam  just  astern  of  the 
little  boat  as  if  some  one  had  dumped  a  bushel  of 
gravel  stones  into  the  waters  of  the  harbor.  Not 
three  hundred  feet  ahead  of  the  foremost  pursuing 
boat,  the  dingy's  keel  grated  on  the  shingle. 

The  Narragansett  sprang  out,  Thornton  after 
him.  Sackett  could  not  be  raised.  Pratt,  holding 
his  wounded  and  disabled  arm,  staggered  up  the  in- 
cline towards  some  stone  steps  leading  to  the  road- 
way above.  But  he  had  hardly  reached  the  foot 
when  there  came  another  shot.  He  fell  face  down- 
ward and  made  no  attempt  to  rise.  Sackett  and 
he  would  join  in  no  more  plots ;  but  Vance  and 
Thornton  were  now  running  down  a  side  street. 

They  dodged  about  a  corner  into  an  alley ; 
crossed  a  small  common,  and  just  as  they  reached 
the  other  side  they  ran,  bows  on,  into  a  heavy 
cloaked  figure,  who,  seeing  their  haste,  hailed  them 
peremptorily,  and  sprang  a  huge  rattle,  making 
much  the  same  noise  that  a  small  boy  does  when 
he  runs  down  a  picket  fence  with  a  stick.  Thorn- 
ton was  laboring  ahead  like  a  wherry  in  a  tideway. 
But  the  Indian  was  striding  along  like  a  racehorse, 
with  the  easy,  springing  gait  inherited  from  his  own 
father,  "  Chief  Fleetfoot,"  who,  if  the  story  told  be 
true,  could  run  down  a  red  deer  in  the  woods.  He 
turned  to  assist  his  comrade  by  taking  hold  of  him 


The  Narragansett  187 

and  giving  him  a  tow.  But  as  he  did  so,  Thorn- 
ton*s  foot  struck  a  round  stone  and  he  fell  forward, 
and  lay  there  groaning. 

"  Run  on,  Red  !  run  on  !  '*  he  cried  breathlessly. 
"  I've  broken  a  leg ;  something's  carried  away  in 
my  pins  ;  on  with  you  !  " 

"  Come  you  with  me  too,"  answered  the  Narra- 
gansett, pulling  Thornton  to  his  feet  with  one 
hand ;  but  the  poor  lad  groaned  and  fell  again. 

"Run  ahead,  curse  you!"  he  said.  "  Don't  stay 
here  and  be  taken  !  " 

The  watchman's  rattle  had  attracted  the  notice  of 
the  people  in  the  houses.  Windows  were  opened 
and  heads  were  thrust  forth,  and  from  about  a  cor- 
ner came  another  cloaked  figure  carrying  a  lantern, 
and  a  big  pike  was  in  his  hand. 

There  was  nothing  else  to  do,  and,  obeying 
Thornton's  angry  order,  the  Indian  struck  out 
again  into  his  long  distance-covering  gait.  Which 
way  he  ran  It  made  little  matter  to  him.  He  did 
not  know  the  country ;  he  had  no  plans ;  but  the 
feel  of  the  springy  earth  beneath  his  feet  was  good 
to  him.  The  sight  of  the  stars  shining  through  the 
branches  of  the  trees  overhead  —  for  he  had  soon 
reached  the  open  country  and  left  the  town  behind 
him — made  him  breathe  the  air  in  long,  deep  breaths, 
and  tempted  him  to  shout.  It  was  freedom;  liberty ! 
The  dim  moonlight  softened  everything,  and  to  his 


1 88  The  Narragansett 

mind  he  seemed  to  be  flying.  He  passed  by  great 
stone  ^rchways  leading  to  private  parks  and  great 
estates.  Twice  he  had  avoided  little  hamlets  of 
thatched  cottages.  Once  he  had  run  full  speed 
through  the  streets  of  a  little  village,  and  had  been 
hailed  by  the  watchman,  who  sprang  his  harmless 
rattle.  But  it  was  growing  light.  He  must  find 
some  place  to  hide,  for  travel  during  the  daytime 
he  knew  he  could  not.  Leaping  a  fence,  he  made 
his  way  into  an  adjoining  field  and  lay  down,  pant- 
ing, beneath  some  bushes. 

Soon  cocks  began  to  crow ;  daylight  widened ;  a 
bell  in  an  ivy-covered  tower  tolled  musically.  In- 
sects commenced  their  morning  hum ;  birds  twit- 
tered, and  people  moved  out  to  their  toil.  From 
his  hiding-place  the  Narragansett  watched  the  un- 
usual sight.  In  a  field  below  him  —  for  he  lay  at  the 
top  of  a  small  hill  —  he  could  see  some  men  and 
women  working  in  a  field  of  grain.  One  of  the 
girls  had  placed  a  basket  beneath  the  shade  of  a 
bush.  The  Indian  was  hungry.  It  required  little 
trouble  to  snake  himself  through  the  grass  and 
secure  the  contents  of  the  little  hamper,  a  loaf  of 
bread  and  a  large  piece  of  cheese.  Then  he  care- 
fully replaced  the  cover  and  stole  back  to  his  former 
hiding-place.  Soon  he  observed,  in  the  road  below 
him,  a  man  riding  along  at  a  fast  gait ;  he  pulled  in 
his  horse  and  shouted  something  to  the  workers  in 


The  Narragansett  189 

the  field.  This  done,  he  rode  at  top  speed  into  the 
village.  Very  soon  another  horseman  appeared, 
and  soon  quite  a  little  band  of  them,  among  whom 
was  a  mounted  soldier  or  two,  and  three  or  four  in 
the  pink  coats  of  the  hunting-field. 

But  near  footsteps  sounded.  A  man  in  leather 
gaiters,  with  a  fowling-piece  over  his  shoulder,  was 
coming  down  a  little  path  from  some  deep  woods 
on  the  right.  A  setter  dog  played  in  front  of  him. 
The  man  was  reading  a  freshly  printed  notice.  The 
ink  was  smeared  from  handling.  The  man  spelled 
it  out  aloud.  "  Escaped  from  the  hulks  ;  a  danger- 
ous prisoner ;  a  wild  American  Indian  ;  ten  pounds 
reward,"  and  much  more  of  it. 

All  of  a  sudden  the  dog  stopped ;  then  with  a 
short  bark,  he  sprang  forward.  At  the  same 
instant  the  gamekeeper  dropped  the  printed  notice 
that  had  been  handed  to  him  but  a  minute  previ- 
ously by  a  horseman  on  the  road.  Surely  he 
could  not  be  mistaken,  something  had  dodged 
down  behind  yonder  hedge  ;  and  as  the  setter  sprang 
forward,  barking  viciously,  a  strange  figure  arose, 
a  man  with  a  copper-colored  face,  and  streaming, 
unkempt,  black  locks  ;  he  wore  big  gold  ear-rings, 
and  he  was  clad  in  a  torn  canvas  shirt  and  trousers, 
with  a  sailor's  neckerchief  around  his  throat.  The 
dog  was  bounding  forward  when  suddenly  the  figure 
raised  its  arm.     No  cricketer  that  ever  played  on 


190  The  Narragansett 

the  village  green  could  throw  with  such  unerring 
force.  A  large  stone  struck  the  dog  and  took  the 
fight  out  of  him.  Yelping,  he  sneaked  back  to  his 
master's  heels.  The  startled  gamekeeper  raised 
his  gun  and  fired.  Whether  it  was  because  of  his 
sudden  fright  or  the  quickness  with  which  the  agile 
figure  dropped  at  the  flash,  the  charge  whistled 
harmlessly  through  the  leaves.  But  the  sound  of 
the  shot  had  attracted  the  attention  of  the  people 
in  the  fields.  A  cry  arose,  as  a  weird  figure  broke 
from  the  bushes  and  dashed  down  the  hill,  making 
for  the  woods. 

"  Gone  away  !  gone  away  !  whoop,  hi !  **  —  the 
view  hallo  of  the  huntsman. 

A  man  in  a  red  coat  had  sighted  the  chase.  He 
leaped  a  fence,  and  four  or  five  other  horsemen 
followed.  Soon  there  came  the  shrill  yelping  of 
the  dogs  as  they  found  the  plain  trail  of  the  bare- 
foot man  running  for  his  life. 

It  was  a  great  run,  that  man-hunt,  and  one  re- 
membered to  this  day.  Over  fence  and  hedge, 
across  ditch  and  stream,  the  Narragansett  led  them. 
No  trained  hurdler  that  ever  ran  across  country 
in  the  county  of  Devonshire  could  have  held  the 
pace  that  Vance  kept  up.  Twice  he  threw  them  oflF 
the  scent  by  running  up  a  stream  and  doubling  on 
his  tracks.  But  the  whole  countryside  was  out  and 
after  him.     The  dogs  were  gaining  on  him  swiftly, 


•*Over  fence  and  hedge. 


The  Narragansett  191 

and  at  last  at  the  foot  of  a  great  oak  they  had  him 
cornered.  He  fought  them  off  with  a  broken 
branch,  and  soon  the  pack  surrounded  him  in  a 
yelping  circle,  not  daring  to  come  nearer. 

Up  came  the  huntsmen.  They  halted  at  some 
distance  and  talked  among  themselves.  Who 
among  them  was  brave  enough  to  go  up  and  lay 
hold  of  this  strange  wild  man  ?  They  called  off 
the  dogs  and  waited  for  the  soldiers.  Eight  or  ten 
yokels  and  some  farmer  folks  joined  the  gaping 
crowd.  Five  men  appeared  with  muskets,  and  one 
with  a  long  coil  of  rope.  But  all  this  time  the 
Narragansett  had  stood  there  with  his  back  against 
an  oak  tree,  with  a  sneer  on  his  thin  lips.  They 
talked  aloud  as  to  how  they  should  capture  him. 
Some  were  for  shooting  him  down  at  once ;  but  as  yet 
no  one  had  addressed  a  word  to  him  direct.  Surely, 
he  must  speak  an  outlandish  foreign  tongue !  Sud- 
denly, the  fugitive  took  a  step  forward  and  raised 
his  hand. 

"  Englishmen,"  he  said,  "  listen  to  me." 

All  started  back  in  astonishment.  Why,  this 
wild  man  spoke  their  own  language ! 

"  Who  is  the  chief  here  ?  Who  is  the  captain?  " 
Every  one  looked  at  a  middle-aged  man  astride  a 
sturdy  brown  cob.  He  was  the  Squire,  and  magis- 
trate of  the  neighborhood. 

"  Well,  upon  my  soul,"  he  began,  "  I  suppose  —  " 


192  The  Narragansett 

But  the  Narragansett  interrupted  him.  "  To  you 
I  give  myself,"  he  said,  advancing.  He  glanced  at 
the  others  with  supreme  contempt.  As  he  came 
forward,  he  held  out  his  hand,  and  involuntarily  the 
man  on  horseback  stretched  forth  his.  It  was  a 
strange  sight,  that  greeting.  The  crowd  gave  way  a 
Httle,  and  three  or  four  mounted  dragoons  came 
tearing  up  hill.     They  stopped  in  astonishment. 

"You  gave  us  a  good  run,"  said  the  Squire, 
with  some  embarrassment,  not  knowing  what  to 
say. 

"  You  are  too  many ;  I  am  your  prisoner,"  was 
the  answer. 

No  one  laid  hands  on  him.  Walking  beside  the 
Squire's  horse  down  to  the  road,  followed  by  the 
gaping,  gabbling  crowd,  who  still,  however,  kept 
aloof,  the  Narragansett  walked  proudly  erect.  When 
he  reached  the  highway,  he  turned.  There  was  a 
cart  standing  there.  The  Squire  dismounted  from 
his  horse  and  spoke  a  few  words  to  the  driver. 
Then  he  mounted  to  the  seat.  John  Vance  sprang 
up  beside  him.  At  a  brisk  pace  they  started  down 
the  road  towards  Portsmouth,  the  soldiers  and  the 
horsemen  trailing  on  behind  them.  At  the  landing 
where  the  boat  from  the  old  Spartan  met  them  — 
for  a  horseman  had  ridden  on  with  the  news  —  was 
waiting  a  sergeant  of  marines.  He  advanced  with  a 
pair  of  handcuffs. 


The  Narragansett  193 

"  None  of  that !  "  exclaimed  the  Squire.  "  This 
man  has  given  me  his  word." 

"The  word  of  a  chief's  son,"  put  in  the  Narra- 
gansett. The  two  men  shook  hands  again  ;  then 
proudly  John  Vance  stepped  into  the  boat,  and 
unmanacled  sat  there  in  the  stern  sheets. 

In  twenty  minutes  he  was  once  more  down  in  the 
close,  foul-smelling  'tween  decks. 

The  only  notice  taken  of  the  Narragansett's  break 
for  liberty  was  the  fact  that  he  was  numbered  among 
the  next  detail  bound  for  Dartmoor ;  but  the  tradi- 
tion of  the  man-hunt  of  Squire  Knowlton's  hounds, 
and  its  curious  ending,  lives  in  Devonshire  to-day. 


FIGHTING   STEWART 


FIGHTING    STEWART 

AN  old  sailor  sat  on  the  Constitution  s  fore- 
castle, with  his  back  against  the  carriage 
of  one  of  the  forward  carronades.  He 
was  skilfully  unwinding  a  skein  of  spun  yarn  which 
he  held  over  his  two  bare  feet,  while  at  the  same 
time  he  rolled  the  ball  deftly  with  his  stubby,  joint- 
less  fingers.  A  young  boy,  not  over  fourteen  years 
of  age,  lay  sprawled  flat  on  the  deck  beside  him,  his 
chin  supported  in  the  hollows  of  his  two  hands,  his 
elbows  on  the  deck. 

"  It  comes  all  along  o'  drinkin'  rum,  says  I," 
went  on  the  old  sailor,  continuing  some  tale  he  had 
been  telling.  "That,  I  claims,  is  the  reason  for 
many  unfortunate  doin's ;  and  that  is  why  all 
them  men  I  was  tellin'  you  about  was  eat  by  the 
cannibals." 

"  I  don't  see  as  it  made  any  difference,"  broke  in 
the  boy,  "  except  perhaps  in  the  taste.  If  they 
were  bent  on  going  where  they  did,  they'd  have 
been  eaten  anyhow,  wouldn't  they  ?  " 

"  As  to  that,"  returned  the  old  sailor,  "  I  contra- 
dict ye.     Rum  sometimes  makes  a  fellow  want  to 

197 


198  Fighting  Stewart 

fight  when  it's  a  tarnel  sight  braver  to  run ;  that  is, 
upon  some  occashuns." 

"  Some  folks  get  so  they  can't  even  wiggle, 
let  alone  run,"  observed  the  boy.  "  I  saw  our 
o  sun  — 

"Don't  speak  uncharitable  of  your  neighbors, 
son,"  observed  the  old  man.  "All  I  can  say  is 
that  I  don't  take  no  stock  in  grog ;  thereby  being' 
the  peculiarest  man  in  the  service,  I  dessay.  I've 
seen  lessons,  as  I  was  tellin'  ye.  You  see,  all  those 
friends  of  mine  would  been  livin'  to-day  if  they 
hadn't  taken  on  cargoes  of  that  thar  African  wine. 
Yes,  they  got  to  suppose  that  they  could  lick  about 
twenty  times  their  weight  of  black  niggers,  and  so 
they  started  in,  and  never  come  back.  But  I,  not 
drinkin'  nothin',  jes'  kep'  by  the  boat,  an'  when 
them  savages  come  after  me,  I  warn't  there.  Had 
a  terrible  time  gettin'  off  to  the  ship  all  alone ;  but 
I  done  it,  an'  thar's  the  best  temperance  lecture  I 
know  of.  I  got  a  hull  lot  of  texts  out  of  the  Good 
Book ;  but  most  people  won't  listen  to  'em ;  least- 
ways on  board  of  this  ship." 

"  I  reckon  you  are  the  only  man  what  don't  take 
his  grog  here,"  said  the  boy. 

"That  I  be,"  returned  the  old  sailor,  "and,  by 
Sal,  I'm  proud  of  it!  'No,  thankee,  messmate,' 
says  I  when  it  comes  around,  '  I  don't  need  that  to 
keep  my  chronometer  goin'.'     Then  they  all  laughs 


Fighting  Stewart  199 

generally,  and    calls    me    a    fresh-water    moss-back. 
Some  day  'an  I'll  git  even  with  'em." 

Old  Renwick,  although  somewhat  of  a  butt  of 
the  crew,  was  respected  nevertheless  because  of  his 
being  a  good  seaman,  and  because  he  also  had  made 
a  record  for  himself  in  the  old  days  during  the  war 
with  France  and  the  adventurous  times  with  Preble 
in  the  Mediterranean.  He  was  a  great  favorite 
with  Captain  Stewart,  then  the  Commander  of  the 
old  frigate,  and  by  him  he  had  been  promoted  to 
the  position  of  quartermaster.  He  would  never 
have  succeeded  in  qualifying  for  the  position  of  boat- 
swain or  for  any  higher  grade  than  that  which  he 
now  held,  for  the  simple  reason  that  the  old  fellow 
was  too  lenient  in  his  discipline  and  too  ready  to 
condole  with  the  faults  of  others  except  where  rum 
was  concerned. 

It  was  Renwick's  greatest  delight  to  secure  a  soli- 
tary and  attentive  listener  and  spin  a  long  yarn  to 
him.  He  spoke  without  the  usual  profane  punct- 
uation,—  the  habit  of  most  seamen,  —  and  when  off 
watch  he  read  his  Bible  most  assiduously.  He  had 
had  many  adventures  in  his  forty-four  years  at  sea, 
and  his  memory  being  a  most  retentive  one,  it  re- 
quired little  excuse  for  him  to  start  on  a  long  men- 
tal peregrination  through  the  laden  fields  of  his 
memory. 

Many  were   the   occasions  when   the  boy  found 


200  Fighting   Stewart 

time  to  become  Renwick's  solitary  auditor.  The 
lad  was  bright,  and  this  was  but  his  second  voyage 
at  sea.  He  was  one  of  those  children  who,  al- 
though born  inland  and  away  from  the  smell  of  the 
ocean,  still  must  inherit  from  their  ancestors  the  keen 
desire  to  seek  adventures  and  see  strange  countries 
— he  dreamed  of  ships  and  the  deep.  Once  firmly 
rooted,  this  feeling  never  dies ;  despite  hardships, 
wrecks,  and  disasters,  the  sailor  returns  to  his  calling. 
The  boy  had  never  seen  an  action.  But  he  had 
rejoiced  with  the  rest  at  America's  many  victories ; 
he  had  joined  with  the  crowd  that  had  followed  the 
parading  sailors  in  New  York  after  Hull's  great 
victory,  and  he  had  peeped  in  at  the  window  of  the 
hotel  upon  the  occasion  of  the  dinner  given  to 
Decatur  and  to  Bainbridge  and  to  the  Guerrieres 
conqueror  —  all  this  while  on  a  visit  to  the  city 
from  his  home  in  the  mountains  of  New  Jersey. 
And  thus  inflamed  with  the  idea,  he  had  run  away 
to  sea,  and  had  made  his  first  voyage,  eight  or  ten 
months  previous  to  the  opening  of  the  story,  in  a 
little  privateer  that  had  an  uneventful  cruise  and 
returned  to  port  after  taking  two  small  prizes  that 
had  offered  no  resistance.  His  entering  on  board 
the  Constitution  had  been  with  the  permission  of  his 
parents,  who  saw  that  the  only  way  to  hold  him 
from  following  his  bent  would  be  to  keep  him  at 
home  forever  under  their  watchful  eyes. 


Fighting   Stewart  201 

A  great  war-ship  is  a  small  floating  world,  and, 
like  the  world,  the  dangers  that  beset  a  young  man 
starting  alone  on  his  career  are  many.  There  are 
the  good  and  the  bad,  the  leaders  and  the  led  ;  the 
people  who  lift  up  others,  and  those  who  lean.  It 
was  rather  well  for  the  boy  that  he  had  met  with 
old  Renwick  and  conceived  a  friendship  for  him. 
From  the  old  sailor  the  lad  had  learned  much.  He 
was  an  expert  at  tying  knots  already,  and  he  had 
learned  to  hand,  reef,  and  steer  after  a  fashion  on 
board  the  privateer  schooner.  The  royal  yards  on 
a  man-of-war  are  always  manned  by  boys,  because 
of  their  agility  and  hghtness.  This  boy  was  a  born 
topman ;  he  exulted  in  the  sense  of  freedom  that 
comes  to  one  when  laying  out  upon  a  swaying  yard; 
the  bounding  exhilaration  of  the  heart,  the  exciting 
quickening  of  the  pulse  as  the  great  mass  describes 
arcs  of  huge  circles  as  the  vessel  far  below  swings 
and  rises  through  the  seas. 

The  attention  of  the  officers  had  been  called  to 
him  more  than  once,  and  if  there  was  a  ticklish  job 
aloft  above  the  cross-trees,  the  boy  was  sent  to  per- 
form it.  On  one  occasion  he  had  excited  a  repri- 
mand for  riding  down  a  backstay  head  foremost, 
the  First  Lieutenant  observing,  and  speaking  to 
him  thus :  "  While  that  would  do  for  a  circus,  it 
wasn't  the  thing  for  shipboard."  But  he  was  a 
perfect   monkey  with   the  ropes,  and  nothing  de- 


202  Fighting  Stewart 

lighted  him  better  than  scampering  up  the  shrouds, 
or  shinning  to  the  main  truck  to  disengage  the  pen- 
nant halliards.  He  used  to  sing,  in  his  shrill,  high 
voice,  even  when  struggling  to  get  in  the  stiffened 
canvas  in  a  gale. 

On  the  20th  of  February  (the  year  was  1815) 
the  First  Lieutenant  made  the  early  morning  in- 
spection of  the  ship.  He  had  hoped  that  the 
clouds  and  thickness  that  had  prevailed  for  a  few 
days  would  disappear,  for  it  seemed  as  if  for  once 
"  Old  Ironsides"  was  pursued  by  the  demon  of 
bad  luck  in  the  way  of  weather.  At  one  p.m.,  after 
a  fruitless  attempt  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  sun  for 
a  noonday  sight,  the  clouds  broke  away  and  the 
breeze  freshened.  The  boy  and  his  companions 
jumped  at  the  orders  to  "  shorten  sail  and  take  in  the 
royals.*'  Quickly  they  climbed  the  shrouds,  passed 
one  great  yard  after  another  in  their  upward  jour- 
ney, and  came  at  last  to  the  royals.  The  boy  was 
first.  He  looked  down  at  the  narrow  deck  below 
him,  and  at  the  curved  surfaces  of  the  billowing 
sails.  It  seemed  as  if  his  weight  alone  would  suf- 
fice to  overturn  the  vessel.  The  lightness  and  deli- 
cacy of  the  entire  fabric  were  never  so  apparent  to 
him.  He  could  see  his  companions  crawling  up, 
their  faces  lifted,  and  panting  from  their  exertions. 
The  sunlight  cast  dark  blue  shadows  on  the  sails 
below.      Two  great  ridges  of  foam   stretched   out 


Fighting   Stewart  203 

from  the  Constitutiori  s  bows.  The  taut  sheets  had 
begun  to  hum  under  the  stress  of  the  increasing 
breeze.  The  boy  began  to  chant  his  strange  song 
—  a  song  of  pure  exhilaration. 

With  so  many  light  kites  flying,  something  might 
carry  away  at  any  moment,  however,  and  he  heard 
the  officer  of  the  deck  shout  up  for  them  to  hasten. 
Then  he  let  his  eyes  rove  toward  the  horizon  line 
as  he  took  his  position  in  the  bunt. 

Far  away  against  the  sky  where  the  clouds  shut 
down  upon  the  water,  he  saw  a  speck  of  white ! 
Leaning  back  from  the  yard,  he  drew  a  long  breath ; 
those  on  deck  stopped  their  work  for  an  instant, 
the  officer  took  a  step  sideways  in  order  the  better 
to  see  the  masthead. 

"Sail  ho!"  clear  and  distant  had  come  down 
from  the  royal  yard. 

"Where  away?"  called  the  officer,  making  a 
trumpet  of  his  hands. 

"Two  points  off  the  larboard  bow,  sir,"  was  the 
reply. 

"  Clew  up  and  clew  down,"  was  now  the  order. 
The  steersman  climbed  the  wheel,  and  with  a  great 
bone  in  her  teeth  the  Constitution  hauled  her  wind 
and  made  sail  in  chase  of  the  distant  stranger.  In 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  she  was  made  out  to  be  a  ship, 
and  then  came  the  cry  a  second  time :  "  Sail  ho  ! " 
There  was  another  vessel   ahead  of  the   first !     A 


204  Fighting   Stewart 

half  an  hour  more,  and  both  were  discovered  to 
be  ships  standing  close-hauled,  with  their  starboard 
tacks  on  board.  At  eight  bells  in  the  afternoon 
they  were  in  plain  sight  from  the  deck,  little  sig- 
nal flags  creeping  up  and  down  their  halliards  — 
ship  fashion,  they  were  holding  consultation.  Then 
the  weathermost  bore  up  for  her  consort,  who  was 
about  ten  miles  distant  and  to  leeward  ;  and  crowding 
on  everything  she  could  carry  again,  the  Constitu- 
tion boiled  along  after  her.  The  lower,  topmast, 
topgallant,  and  royal  studding-sails  were  thrown  out, 
and  hand  over  hand  she  overhauled  them. 

The  boy  was  aloft  again.  He  had  caught  the 
fever  of  excitement  that  even  the  old  hands  felt,  as 
they  saw  that  the  magazine  was  open  and  that 
powder  and  shot  were  being  dealt  out  for  the  divi- 
sions. The  half-ports  to  leeward  had  to  be  kept 
closed  to  prevent  the  water  from  flooding  the 
decks. 

The  boy  stayed  after  the  other  youngsters  had 
descended.  He  could  feel  the  royal  mast  swaying 
and  whipping  like  a  fishing-rod  —  the  stays  were 
as  tight  as  the  strings  of  a  fiddle.  They  felt  like 
iron  to  the  grasp ;  they  had  narrowed  under  the 
tension.  The  wind  in  the  deep  sails  below  played 
a  sonorous  bass  to  the  high  treble  of  their  singing. 
The  ship  was  murmuring  like  a  hive,  now  and 
then  creaking  as  she  lurched  under  the  pressure. 


Fighting   Stewart  205 

How  it  happened  the  boy  never  knew  ;  but  as  sud- 
denly as  winking  there  came  a  report  as  of  a  cannon 
aloft ;  the  main  royal,  upon  the  yard  of  which  he 
was  leaning,  flew  off,  and  caught  by  the  tacks  and 
sheets,  fell  down  across  the  yard  below.  The  main- 
topgallant  mast  had  been  carried  clean  away.  No  one, 
not  even  the  boy  himself,  knew  how  it  all  occurred. 
Perhaps  he  had  laid  hold  of  one  of  the  reef  points. 
Perhaps  he  had  made  a  lucky  jump.  But  there  he 
lay  in  the  bight  made  by  the  folds  of  the  royal, 
softly  resting  against  the  bosom  of  the  sail  below, 
unhurt,  but  slightly  dizzy.  From  the  hamper  of 
wreckage  above  hung  one  of  the  loosened  clew-lines. 
The  end  of  it  reached  down  to  the  cross-trees. 
Reaching  forth,  the  young  topman  tested  it,  and 
seeing  it  would  hold,  emerged  from  his  hanging 
nest,  and  swinging  free  for  an  instant,  managed  with 
his  monkey-like  powers  to  lay  hold  of  a  stay  and 
reach  the  shrouds.  There  was  a  cheer  from  below, 
as  he  sprang  to  the  deck,  and  this  time  there  was  no 
reprimand. 

The  loss  of  her  upper  sails  appeared  to  impede 
the  speed  of  the  frigate  but  little.  It  would  not  be 
long  now  before  the  bow-chasers  might  be  expected 
to  begin.  The  men  were  mustered  on  the  deck. 
Along  came  the  stewards  and  the  mess-men  with 
the  customary  grog. 

The  officers  all  this  time  had  been  busy  survey- 


2o6  Fighting  Stewart 

ing  the  two  ships.  An  hour  ago  they  had  been 
pronounced  to  be  English. 

Old  Renwick  grumbled  as  he  watched  the  men 
pour  down  the  half  pannikin  of  scalding  Hquor. 

"  Well,  here's  to  us,"  chuckled  a  tall,  red-nosed 
sailor,  emptying  the  stuff  down  his  throat  as  if  it 
had  been  spring  water.  "  Here's  to  us,  and  every 
stick  in  the  old  ship." 

"  We  ought  to  get  double  allowance,"  put  in  an- 
other man  just  before  it  was  his  turn  to  take  his 
portion.  "  There  are  two  of  'em  to  fight,  which 
makes  me  twice  as  thirsty.  Here's  to  the  best 
thing  in  the  world,  —  grog." 

Quartermaster  Renwick  did  not  like  to  hear  all 
this,  and  overcome  by  a  sudden  impulse,  he  stepped 
out  from  behind  the  bitts.  There  were  two  buckets 
full  of  the  strong-smelling  drink  resting  on  the  deck. 
With  a  sweep  of  his  foot  he  upset  them  both !  A 
howl  of  rage  went  up  from  all  sides.  One  of  the 
men  loosened  a  belaying-pin  and  advanced  threat- 
eningly.    The  old  sailor  stood  his  ground. 

"  Avast  this  'ere  swillin',  lads,"  he  said ;  "  there 
shall  be  no  Dutch  courage  on  board  this  ship." 
He  folded  his  arms  and  stood  looking  at  the  angry 
crowd.  The  First  Lieutenant  had  observed  the 
whole  occurrence,  and  immediately  gave  the  order 
to  beat  to  quarters.  The  boy,  thinking  that  his 
old  friend  was  about  to  be  attacked,  had  jumped  to 


Fighting   Stewart  ^      207 

his  side.  But  his  station  in  action  was  on  the  fore- 
castle, where  he  was  powder-monkey  for  the  two 
forward  guns. 

The  call  to  quarters  and  the  rolling  of  the  drum 
had  stopped  any  trouble  that  might  have  arisen 
owing  to  the  quartermaster's  sudden  action,  but  the 
men  were  surly,  and  it  would  have  been  hard  for 
him  if  they  could  have  reached  him  unseen. 

Every  second  now  brought  the  Constitution  closer 
to  the  enemy.  Never  could  the  boy  forget  his  sen- 
sations as  he  saw  the  gunners  bend  down  and  aim 
the  forward  gun  on  the  larboard  bow.  The  smoke 
from  the  shot  blew  back  through  the  port.  The 
gun  next  to  it  now  spoke,  but  both  balls  fell  short, 
and  neither  of  the  ships  replied. 

They  were  both  ably  handled,  and  their  com- 
manders had  now  reached  some  understanding  as  to 
the  conduct  of  the  action  ;  for  when  the  Constitution 
was  yet  a  mile's  distance  from  them  they  passed  near 
enough  to  one  another  to  speak  through  the  trumpet. 

The  beginning  of  an  action  at  sea,  before  the 
blood  is  heated  by  the  sight  of  carnage  and  the  ear 
accustomed  to  the  strange  sounds  and  the  indiffer- 
ence to  danger  has  grown  over  the  consciousness  of 
self,  is  the  most  exciting  moment.  There  is  a  sense 
of  unreality  in  the  appearance  of  the  enemy.  If  he 
is  coming  bravely  up  to  fight,  there  is  no  hatred  felt 
for  him.      Men  grow  intensely  critical  at  such  mo- 


2o8  Fighting   Stewart 

ments,  strange  to  say.  They  admire  their  oppo- 
nent's skill,  although  they  are  indined  to  smile 
exultantly  if  they  perceive  he  is  making  missteps. 
Captain  Stewart  and  his  officers,  grouped  at  the 
side,  were  discussing  calmly  the  probable  designs  of 
the  enemy. 

"  Egad  !  They  are  hauling  by  the  wind,  and  they 
are  going  to  wait  for  us,"  said  Stewart. 

"  They  are  not  going  to  run,  at  any  event,"  ob- 
served the  First  Lieutenant.  "They  are  tidy-look- 
ing sloops  of  war,  sir  !  " 

In  five  minutes  both  the  English  vessels  had 
made  all  sail,  close-hauled  by  the  wind,  with  the 
plain  intention  of  trying  to  outpoint  the  frigate. 

"  No,  you  don't,  my  friends,"  remarked  Stewart 
to  himself     "  Not  if  I  know  my  ship." 

The  crew,  who  were  watching  the  oncomers,  shared 
his  sentiment,  for  they  knew  that  the  Constitution 
was  not  to  be  beaten  on  that  point  of  sailing ;  and 
the  strangers  soon  noticed  this,  also,  for  they  short- 
ened sail  and  formed  on  a  line  at  about  half  a  cable's 
length  apart.  Not  a  shot  had  been  fired  since  the 
two  bow  guns  had  given  challenge,  but  now  the  time 
had  come,  the  huge  flag  of  the  Constitution  went  up  to 
the  peak,  and  in  answer  both  ships  hoisted  Enghsh 
ensigns.  Scarce  three  hundred  yards  now  separated 
the  antagonists.  The  English  ships  had  started 
cheering.    It  was  the  usual  custom  of  the  Anglo- 


Fighting   Stewart  209 

Saxon  to  go  into  battle  that  way.  Quartermaster 
Renwick  called  for  three  cheers  from  the  Constitu- 
tion s  men,  but  they  had  not  forgotten,  at  least  some 
of  them,  his  upsetting  of  the  grog.  His  unpopu- 
larity at  that  present  moment  was  evident,  for  few 
answered  the  call,  and  thus  silently  the  men  at  the 
guns  waited  for  the  word  to  fire. 

The  boy  was  half-way  down  the  companion 
ladder  when  it  came.  There  was  a  great  jar  the 
whole  vessel's  length.  A  deafening  explosion,  and 
the  fight  was  on ! 

For  fifteen  minutes  it  was  hammer  and  tongs. 
Broadside  after  broadside  was  exchanged,  and  then 
it  was  noticed  that  the  English  had  begun  to  slacken 
their  return  ;  and  now  they  suddenly  were  silent.  A 
strange  phenomenon  here  took  place.  As  all  the 
combatants  were  close-hauled  and  the  wind  was  light, 
a  great  bank  of  opaque  sulphurous  smoke  had 
gathered  all  about  them.  The  Constitution  ceased 
firing,  also ;  for  although  the  enemy  was  within  two 
hundred  yards'  distance,  not  a  sight  of  either  ship 
could  be  seen.  They  were  blotted  out ;  their  condi- 
tion and  their  exact  positions  were  unknown.  Not 
a  gun  was  fired  for  three  minutes,  and  then  the 
smoke  cleared  away. 

"  Here  they  are  !  "  cried  Stewart,  and  his  exclama- 
tion was  drowned  with  a  broadside,  for  the  gunners 
of  the  Constitution  had  discovered  that  the  headmost 


2IO  Fighting   Stewart 

ship  was  just  abreast  of  them  and  but  a  hundred 
feet  away.  The  sternmost  was  luffing  up  with  the 
intention  of  reaching  the  Constitution  s  quarter.  The 
smoke  from  the  big  guns  had  hidden  everything 
again,  but  orders  were  now  coming  fast  from  the 
quarter-deck.  Men  were  hastening  aloft,  and  others 
were  tailing  on  to  the  braces,  tacks,  and  sheets.  The 
main  and  mizzen  top-sails  were  braced  aback  against 
the  mast,  and  slowly  the  Constitution  began  to  move 
stern  foremost  through  the  water.  It  was  as  if  nowa- 
days the  order  had  come  to  reverse  the  engines  at 
full  speed.  All  the  sailors  saw  the  importance  of 
this  act.  They  were  cheering  now,  and  they  had 
good  right  to  do  so.  Instead  of  finding  herself  on 
the  larboard  side  and  in  good  position  for  raking, 
the  English  vessel  was  in  a  very  bad  position.  It 
must  have  astonished  her  commander  to  find  himself 
so  unexpectedly  confronted,  but  he  was  directly  be- 
neath the  Constitution  s  guns  again.  There  was  no 
help  for  it.  He  was  forced  to  receive  her  fire. 
The  big  sloop  of  war,  which  had  been  deserted  so 
unceremoniously,  kept  on  making  a  great  hubbub, 
aiming  at  the  place  where  she  supposed  the  Yankee 
frigate  yet  to  be. 

To  repeat  all  the  details  of  the  rest  of  the  strug- 
gle would  be  but  to  recount  a  tale  filled  with  the 
detailed  working  of  a  ship  and  nautical  expressions, 
but  it  is  safe  to  state  that  never  was  a  vessel  better 


Fighting  Stewart  211 

handled,  and  never  did  a  captain  win  a  title  more 
honestly  than  did  Charles  Stewart  the  sobriquet 
of  "  Fighting  Stewart." 

It  was  ten  minutes  of  seven  in  the  evening 
when  the  first  English  vessel  struck  her  flag.  She 
proved  to  be  His  Britannic  Majesty's  sloop  of  war 
Cyane^  under  the  command  of  Captain  Gordon  Fal- 
con, a  gallant  oflicer,  and  one  who  had  earned  distinc- 
tion in  the  service.  His  ship,  that  he  had  fought 
bravely,  mounted  thirty-four  guns.  He  was  so 
overcome  with  emotion  at  having  to  surrender,  that 
he  could  scarcely  return  Captain  Stewart's  greeting 
when  he  came  on  board,  for  he  had  entered  the 
fight  declaring  that  he  was  going  to  receive  the 
Yankee's  sword.  As  soon  as  he  had  placed  a  prize 
crew  on  board  the  Cyane^  Stewart  headed  the  Consti- 
tution for  the  other  sloop  of  war,  who  was  doing  her 
best  to  get  away.  So  fast  did  he  overhaul  her  that 
the  Levant  —  for  that  was  her  name  —  turned  back 
to  meet  her  big  opponent,  and  bravely  prepared  to 
fight  it  out.  But  it  was  no  use,  and  after  some 
firing  and  manoeuvring  Captain  George  Douglass 
struck  his  colors,  as  his  friend  Falcon  had  been 
forced  to  do  some  time  earlier. 

But  what  of  old  Renwick  and  the  boy  ?  They 
lay  below  in  the  cockpit  —  the  old  man  with  a 
shattered  leg  and  the  hero  of  the  royal  yard  with  a 
bad  splinter  wound  across  his  chest.     Men  forget 


212  Fighting   Stewart 

their  wounds  in  moments  of  great  mental  excite- 
ment ;  since  he  had  been  brought  below,  the 
quartermaster  had  been  following  every  movement 
of  the  ship  as  if  he  had  been  on  deck. 

"  We  are  luffing  up/'  he  would  say.  "  Ah ! 
there  we  go,  we  headed  her  that  time !  By  tar,  my 
hearties,  we  will  win  the  day !  Hark  to  'em  !  Hear 
'em  bark ! "  And  so  he  kept  it  up,  regardless  of 
the  fact  that  his  shattered  leg  was  soon  to  be  taken 
off;  and  all  of  the  thirteen  wounded  men  there  under 
the  surgeon's  care  listened  to  him,  and  when  the 
news  came  down  that  the  first  vessel  had  struck, 
Renwick  called  for  cheers,  and  they  were  given  this 
time  with  a  will ! 

Three  or  four  days  after  the  fight.  Captain  Stew- 
art was  dining  in  his  cabin,  and  as  usual  his  guests 
were  the  English  captains,  who  had  not  yet  entirely 
recovered  from  the  deep  chagrin  incident  to  their 
surrender.  How  it  started,  no  one  exactly  knew. 
It  is  not  on  record  which  of  the  gentlemen  was  at 
fault  for  the  beginning  of  the  quarrel,  but  they  were 
fighting  their  battles  over  again  in  a  discussion  that 
grew  more  heated  every  moment.  Suddenly  one 
of  the  officers,  jumping  to  his  feet,  accused  the  other 
of  being  responsible  for  what  he  termed  "  the  unfort- 
unate conclusion  of  the  whole  affair."  Hot  words 
were  exchanged.  Stewart,  who,  of  course,  had  his 
own  opinions  on  the  matter  in  question,  said  noth- 


> 
<u 

(U 

o 


&0 


Fighting   Stewart  213 

ing,  until  at  last  he  perceived  that  things  might  be 
going  too  far,  and  it  was  time  for  him  to  interfere. 
Smiling  blandly,  and  looking  from  one  of  the  angry- 
men  to  the  other,  he  spoke  as  follows  :  — 

"  Gentlemen,  there  is  only  one  way  that  I  see,  to 
decide  this  question, —  to  put  you  both  on  your 
ships  again,  give  you  back  your  crews,  and  try  it 
over.'* 

This  ended  the  argument,  but  the  story  went  the 
rounds  of  the  ship,  and  one  of  the  lieutenants  in 
writing  to  a  brother  officer  described  the  incident  in 
those  exact  words. 

Quartermaster  Renwick  survived  the  loss  of  his 
leg,  and  he  used  to  relate  the  story  of  how  and 
where  he  lost  it  to  the  youngsters  who  would  gather 
about  his  favorite  bench  fronting  the  Battery  sea- 
wall. 

The  boy  recovered  also,  and  he  served  his  coun- 
try until  they  laid  him  on  the  shelf  after  the  Civil 
War  was  over.  Very  nearly  forty  years  had  he 
passed  in  the  navy,  where  he  grew  to  be  a  great 
hand  at  yarn-spinning,  and  was  much  quoted,  for  he 
linked  the  service  back  to  the  days  of  wind  and  sail, 
although  he  had  lived  to  see  the  era  of  steam  and 
steel.  His  favorite  story  of  them  all  was  of  the  old 
Constitution  and  how  she  behaved  under  the  com- 
mand of  "  Fighting  Stewart.'' 


TWO    DUELS 


i 


TWO  DUELS 

OH,  Bainbridge,  you're  going  ashore  with 
us,  aren't  you  ?  " 
At  these  words  a  young  man  who  was 
walking  up  and  down  the  frigate's  quarter-deck 
turned  quickly.  He  was  dressed  in  the  same  uni- 
form as  the  one  who  had  just  asked  the  question, 
—  that  of  a  midshipman  of  the  American  navy. 

"  Not  if  you  are  starting  at  once,  Raymond,"  he 
replied.  "  I  won't  be  off  duty  for  a  quarter  of  an 
hour.     Is  the  boat  ready  ?  " 

"  Not  yet  —  maybe  you  will  have  time  —  have 
you  asked  for  leave  ?  " 

"  I  have  that  right  enough,  but  I  can't  be  in 
two  places  at  once.  I'd  Hke  to  go,  though,  if  I 
could." 

"  It's  too  bad;  all  the  fellows  were  counting  on 
your  coming."  And  Midshipman  Raymond  left  the 
quarter-deck,  and  strolled  forward  to  the  mast, 
where  five  or  six  other  middies  were  waiting,  all 
dressed  in  their  best  uniforms,  with  rows  of  polished 
brass  buttons,  and  neat  little  dirks  swung  at  their 
left  hips  by  slender  chains.     They  were  impatient 

217 


2i8  Two  Duels 

at  the  delay.  Every  one  wished  to  be  ashore,  as  it 
was  the  intention  to  dine  together  and  afterwards 
to  attend  a  concert  at  the  Malta  Theatre ;  for 
the  Constitution  was  lying  at  anchor  just  off  the 
town,  and  not  far  from  the  walls  of  the  heavy  forti- 
fications that  make  the  island  England's  greatest 
stronghold  in  the  Eastern  Mediterranean — second 
in  importance  among  her  possessions  only  to  the 
impregnable  Gibraltar. 

"  I  hear  Carlotti  is  going  to  sing  to-night,"  ob- 
served one  of  the  midshipmen  knowingly,  inter- 
rupting the  chorus  of  grumblings  at  the  slowness  of 
the  shore  boat  in  returning.    "She's  great,"  he  added. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  asked  a  short  tow-headed 
reefer  ;  "  you  never  heard  her." 

"  No,  but  Bainbridge  has,  and  he  told  me." 

"  Wish  Bainbridge  was  going  with  us  —  " 

"  So  do  we  all,"  was  the  chorus  to  this,  and  just  at 
this  moment  the  ship's  bell  clanged  the  hour,  and 
the  one  to  whom  they  referred  ran  past  them. 
He  paused  at  the  head  of  the  ladder. 

"  I'll  be  up  in  a  minute ;  don't  you  fellows  go 
without  me." 

With  these  words  he  jumped  below,  and  running 
into  the  steerage,  he  slammed  open  the  lid  of  his  chest 
and  shifted  into  his  best  uniform  in  "  presto  change  " 
fashion.  He  was  just  in  time  to  hasten  down  the 
ladder  and  leap  into  the  boat  as  she  shoved  off  from 


Two  Duels  219 

the  side.  There  were  two  lieutenants  going  ashore, 
and  they  don't  wait  for  tardy  midshipmen. 

"  Quick  work,  Joseph/'  said  Middy  Raymond, 
laying  his  hand  on  Bainbridge's  knee. 

"  Rather,"  was  the  panted  reply.  "  Do  I  look 
shipshape  ?     Feels  as  if  I'd  forgotten  something.'* 

"  All  ataunto  —  far  as  I  can  see." 

Joseph  Bainbridge  was  a  younger  brother  of 
Commodore  William  Bainbridge,  and  like  him  he 
had  gifts  of  popularity.  He  possessed  a  magnetic 
personality  that  attracted  to  him  the  notice  of  both 
officers  and  men,  and  a  bold,  adventurous  spirit  that 
won  their  admiration.  Added  to  this  was  the  fact 
that  he  was  tall  and  strong,  and  conceded  to  be  the 
handsomest  young  officer  in  the  service. 

When  the  boat  drew  up  at  the  pier,  the  middies 
flocked  off  by  themselves,  and  the  two  young  lieu- 
tenants fell  behind. 

"You  didn't  hear  the  lecture,  —  the  lecture  the 
old  man  gave  us  while  you  were  below,  Bainbridge," 
said  Midshipman  Raymond.  "  Phew  !  but  he  piled 
it  on  thick  in  telling  us  how  to  behave  ourselves. 
Any  one  might  think  that  we  were  going  ashore  to 
offer  challenges  right  and  left  to  all  the  British  army." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Bainbridge,  slip- 
ping his  arm  through  his  friend's,  and  looking  down 
at  him,  for  he  stood  head  and  shoulders  above  the 
other  youngsters. 


220  Two  Duels 

"  Why,  just  this,"  was  the  response.  "  The  old 
man  "  (in  this  manner  was  the  Commodore  referred 
to)  "says  that  there  are  plenty  of  fire-eating,  snap- 
shooting '  eight-paces '  chaps,  just  longing  for  a 
chance  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  a  Yankee  officer ;  and 
as  he  told  us  it  took  two  to  make  trouble,  he  said 
he  would  hold  us  responsible  if  there  was  any  row. 
We  will  have  to  mind  our  tacks  and  sheets.  He 
expects  us  to  be  blind  to  all  ugly  looks,  and  deaf  to 
all  remarks,  I  suppose.  Besides,  we  are  all  under 
promise  to  return  by  the  last  boat,  that  leaves  at 
eleven  o*clock." 

"Well,"  observed  the  tall  midshipman,  laugh- 
ing, "  there  seems  to  be  no  great  hardship  in  that ; 
we  have  some  hours  before  us.  Let's  turn  in  here 
and  get  our  grub  —  then,  ho  for  the  theatre  !  " 

The  crowd  of  laughing  young  fellows  entered  a 
cafe,  and  seated  themselves  quietly  at  a  corner  table. 
But  their  entrance  had  been  observed.  A  group  of 
officers,  in  scarlet  coats  and  gilt  braid  and  shoulder 
knots,  gazed  insolently  at  them. 

"  Young  Yankee  puppies,"  observed  one,  turning 
to  his  companions. 

"  Rather  airy,  —  I  should  say  breezy,"  was  the 
rejoinder. 

Before  long,  the  fun  grew  fast  and  furious  at  the 
middies'  table ;  laughter  and  even  the  snatch  of  a 
song  broke  from   them.     Pretty  soon   one  of  the 


Two  Duels  221 

English  officers  arose  —  the  one  who  had  first 
noticed  their  presence.  He  walked  over  to  their 
table,  and  rapped  on  the  edge  with  the  hilt  of  his 
sword. 

"  Less  noise,  less  noise  here !  "  he  said. 

Bainbridge  was  about  to  spring  to  his  feet,  when 
Raymond  restrained  him.  "  Have  a  care,"  he  said 
softly. 

No  one  noticed  the  Englishman's  presence,  and 
slightly  abashed  he  returned  to  his  seat.  But  he 
covered  his  confusion  with  an  air  of  bravado. 
"Taught 'em  a  lesson,"  he  sniggered. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  whole  party  had  adjourned 
to  the  play-house. 

Carlotti  sang  her  best,  every  one  was  enjoying 
the  music  and  anxious  for  more,  when  the  curtain  fell 
on  the  first  act.  The  Constitution  lads  applauded  so 
long  that  one  might  have  thought  they  wished  to 
have  the  whole  thing  over  again,  which  they  would 
have  liked  exceedingly.  But  seeing  at  last  that  the 
prima  donna  would  not  respond,  —  she  had  been 
out  five  times, — the  lads  arose  and  strutted  into  the 
lobby  in  a  body. 

"  There's  that  officious  Britisher,"  said  Bainbridge, 
nodding  his  head  toward  a  group  of  scarlet  coats 
that  stood  blocking  up  a  doorway. 

"  Oh,  I  just  heard  about  him,"  put  in  one  of  the 
smallest  reefers.  "  He's  Tyrone  Tyler,  the  dead  shot, 


222  Two  Duels 

—  I  overheard  some  one  pointing  him  out.     He's 
killed  eleven  men,  they  say." 

The  officer  in  question  was  tall  and  exceedingly 
slender,  and  he  might  have  been  called  good-looking 
if  it  were  not  for  the  insolent  eyes,  the  leering 
mouth,  and  arrogant  chin  that  made  him  so  con- 
spicuous. He  made  some  remark  that  caused  the 
others  to  laugh  as  he  put  up  his  eyeglass  and  stared 
into  the  faces  of  the  Yankee  middies.  Some  reddened 
and  dropped  their  glances,  but  Bainbridge  returned 
the  stare  with  interest.  The  Englishman  frowned 
and  let  his  glass  fall  from  his  eye. 

"  Care  for  cub-hunting,  Twombl^  ?  "  he  inquired 
of  a  red-faced  man  at  his  elbow.  "  Here's  a  chance 
for  you  ! " 

The  midshipmen  heard  this,  but  said  nothing, 
and  soon  they  were  all  lost  in  the  theatre  crowd. 

During  the  next  intermission  all  kept  their  seats 
but  Raymond  and  Bainbridge,  who  again  strolled 
out.  The  taller  lad,  who  looked  some  years  older 
than  his  age,  which  was  but  nineteen,  attracted  some 
attention  ;  many  looks  of  admiration  were  thrown  at 
him  as  he  passed  through  the  lobby.  Suddenly  he 
collided  with  somebody,  who  pushed  him  off. 

"  Beg  pardon,"  said  Bainbridge,  making  way. 

There  was  no  reply,  and  the  lad's  handsome  brows 
contracted  as  he  saw  the  evil  face  of  Captain  Tyrone 
Tyler  smiling  sneeringly  at  him.     In  the  course  of 


Two  Duels  223 

a  few  minutes  they  met  again,  and  once  more  came 
together. 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir." 

The  words  had  a  peculiar  intonation  this  time. 
They  were  spoken  in  the  tone  of  voice  one  uses 
when  compelled  to  move  something  that  may  dis- 
turb another.  Bainbridge  lifted  the  infantry  captain 
past  with  a  firm  grasp  on  both  his  elbows.  He 
moved  him  as  easily  as  one  might  lift  a  lashed  ham- 
mock to  one  side. 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir,"  said  he  again. 

The  officer  grew  livid,  and  had  it  not  been  that 
some  one  grasped  his  arm,  he  would  have  struck 
the  midshipman  across  the  face.  But  Bainbridge 
and  Raymond  moved  quickly  away. 

As  they  turned  to  leave  the  hall  after  the  per- 
formance was  over  the  word  was  brought  that  Tyler 
and  three  others  were  waiting  at  the  entrance. 
After  a  consultation  it  was  agreed  that  it  would  be 
best  to  remain,  and  avoid  a  meeting  if  possible.  So 
talking  in  low  voices,  the  midshipmen  stayed  on 
until  warned  by  the  dimming  lights  that  the  place 
was  being  closed.  At  last  a  plan  was  settled  on. 
Bainbridge,  who  was  eager  to  go  out  first,  was  per- 
suaded to  remain  with  Raymond,  and  follow  shortly 
after  the  others  had  left.  They  singled  out,  and 
when  the  last  two  stepped  past  the  door,  Tyler  was 
still  waiting. 


224  Two  Duels 

"  Now  for  the  training,"  said  he,  stepping  for- 
ward. As  he  spoke  he  put  one  elbow  in  Bainbridge's 
face,  and  with  the  other  grasped  for  his  collar. 

But  he  reckoned  wrongly.  The  middy  ducked 
quickly  and  picked  up  his  cap  that  had  been  pushed 
off  by  the   blow.     Then   he  straightened   himself. 

"  You  are  a  cowardly  bully,*'  he  said  calmly. 
"  But  I  understand  you.  My  card,  sir ;  I  am  at 
your  service." 

As  he  spoke,  he  extended  a  bit  of  engraved  paste- 
board. Captain  Tyler  took  it,  handed  it  to  one  of 
his  friends,  and  gave  his  name,  adding :  — 

"  I  trust  that  you  will  meet  me  on  the  beach 
under  the  west  fort  to-morrow  morning  at  nine 
o'clock." 

"  Can  you  make  it  earlier  ?  " 

"  Certainly  ;  at  eight,  then." 

The  Englishman  laughed  as  he  moved  off  with 
his  companions. 

"  Be  on  hand,  my  young  monkey  jacket;  I  should 
hate  to  be  turned  out  so  early  for  nothing." 

"  Never  fear,"  was  Bainbridge's  return. 

"  Oh,  Joseph,  what  have  you  done  ?  "  wailed  little 
Raymond,  suddenly.  "  They  will  never  let  you  off 
the  ship,  and  we've  broken  orders,  and  are  in  a 
frightful  mess." 

"  I'm  not  going  on  board  again,  Sammy  ;  I'm  to 
meet  that  bully,  and  I  will  do  it.     It's  either  dis- 


«**I   observed  it,'    said  the  Lieutenant." 


Two  Duels  225 

grace  or  death,  and  Tm  reckless  now.     But  run  along, 
you  ;  leave  me  to  myself." 

"  I  shall  stay  if  you  do,"  repHed  Raymond,  stoutly. 
"  It  will  never  be  said  that  —  " 

"  Come,  young  gentlemen,  'tis  about  time  you 
were  making  for  the  boat.  Commodore  Preble's 
orders  were  very  strict ;  don't  forget  them." 

The  speaker  was  a  tall,  graceful  young  man, 
wrapped  in  a  long  watch-cloak.  It  was  Stephen 
Decatur,  the  First  Lieutenant,  and  the  idol  of  the 
ship.  He  descended  the  few  steps  from  the  en- 
trance to  the  lobby,  and  continued  as  he  acknow- 
ledged the  midshipmen's  salute  :  — 

"Come,  let's  all  be  moving  —  stir  your  stumps 
now,  Mr.  Raymond." 

As  they  reached  the  archway  of  the  pier,  Bain- 
bridge  held  back. 

"  Come,  Mr.  Bainbridge,  a  word  with  you,"  said 
Decatur,  taking  the  lad  kindly  by  the  arm.  He  was 
but  fivQ  or  six  years  the  senior,  but  his  manner  was 
almost  fatherly,     "  Have  you  anything  to  tell  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.     I  have  broken  orders." 

"  I  observed  it,"  said  the  Lieutenant.  "  Have  you 
anything  else  to  say." 

"Yes,  sir;  unless  you  insist,  I'd  rather  stay  on 
shore  to-night." 

"  You  will  return  to  the  ship.** 

"Very  good,  sir." 
Q 


226  Two  Duels 

In  silence  the  party  was  rowed  back,  and  In 
silence  they  climbed  the  side  and  came  on  deck. 

Then  the  First  Lieutenant  spoke.  "  Mr.  Bain- 
bridge,  wait  on  deck  here  until  my  return." 

"  What's  up,  Raymond  ?  "  asked  the  lads  as  soon 
as  they  had  gone  below  to  the  steerage  where  they 
swung  their  hammocks.  "  Did  Bainbridge  have  a 
row,  after  all  ?     What's  going  to  happen  ?  " 

"  Don't  ask  me,"  was  the  reply ;  "  you  know  as 
much  as  I  do."  Raymond  concluded  that  it  was 
best  to  keep  mum  on  the  subject,  and  with  this  he 
tumbled  into  his  hammock. 

Bainbridge  waited  up  on  deck  for  half  an  hour. 
He  had  not  the  least  idea  what  was  going  to  be 
done  with  him.  But  he  was  grieving  bitterly.  If 
he  did  not  meet  the  Englishman,  he  was  disgraced, — 
his  name  was  known,  "  he  owed  it  to  the  honor  of 
the  service " ;  for  that  was  the  way  the  code  was 
established.  But  how  could  he  have  disobeyed  the 
order  of  Decatur  to  proceed  on  board  ship  ?  That 
would  have  been  impossible,  also.  Yet,  strange  to 
say,  he  did  not  regret  his  action,  and  he  had  not 
once  felt  a  thrill  of  fear.  True,  Tyler  was  a  noted 
man-killer,  but  that  did  not  worry  Bainbridge  in  the 
least.  He  may  have  been  a  fatalist,  but  that  was 
not  the  only  reason  :  he  knew  without  bragging  that 
he  was  a  good  shot. 

Suddenly  he  heard  some  one  approaching.     He 


1 


Two  Duels  227 

lifted  his  despondent  head  out  of  his  hands.  Was 
he  going  to  be  called  into  the  cabin  to  take  a  rating 
from  the  fiery  tongue  of  the  Commodore.  Could 
he  stand  that! 

"  Mr.  Bainbridge." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Commodore  Preble's  orders  are  for  me  to  go 
on  shore  to-morrow  at  seven  thirty  in  the  morning. 
By  the  way,  you  will  go  with  me  —  " 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  sir,"  interrupted  the  midship- 
man, his  voice  breaking ;  "  thank  you." 

"  I  shall  attend  to  everything,  if  you  will  allow 
me  the  honor." 

Bainbridge  put  out  his  hand ;  Decatur  took  It 
without  a  word. 

The  next  morning,  on  a  narrow  stretch  of  beach, 
there  was  a  curious  little  gathering,  or,  better,  two 
separate  groups  :  one  composed  of  five  men  talking 
together,  and  at  a  few  paces'  distance  two  silent 
figures. 

The  five  men  were  conversing  in  whispers. 

"  Nevertheless,  I  intend  doing  it,"  said  the  tall 
slender  man  who  was  in  the  centre.  "  Do  you  see 
the  button  at  his  throat  ?  A  Yankee  more  or  less 
does  not  count." 

"  Are  you  ready,  gentlemen  ?  " 

The  others  stepped  back,  and  there  stood  two 
tall  figures  fronting  one  another :  each  held  a  long 


228  Two  Duels 

heavy  pistol  in  the  right  hand.  The  faces  of  the 
men  were  pale,  but  the  midshipman  was  just  as  cool 
as  his  experienced  opponent ;  a  determined  gleam 
was  in  his  light  blue  eyes. 

The  officer  who  had  last  spoken  began  counting, 
and  then  there  came  a  flash  and  one  report.  The 
pistols  had  been  discharged  at  the  same  instant. 

Bainbridge  reeled  slightly,  and  passed  his  hand 
about  his  throat. 

"  I  am  all  right,"  he  said  calmly. 

"  Thank  God !  Then  let's  be  off"  was  Decatur's 
sole  return. 

Lying  on  the  sand  was  Tyler  "  the  dead  shot," 
the  surgeon  fumbling  at  his  chest.  Decatur  and  the 
midshipman  raised  their  hats  as  they  passed  by. 

So  much  for  the  first  duel ;  now  for  the  sequel. 
In  this  modern  day  we  can  scarcely  imagine  the 
complaisant  attitude  assumed  by  press  and  public 
towards  such  happenings  as  this.  Were  they  less 
careful  of  human  life,  or  did  they  view  matters  in 
such  a  different  light  that  their  perceptions  were 
altogether  blunted?  No,  not  that  exactly;  many 
men  fought  duels  who  did  not  believe  in  the  resort 
to  arms  at  all.  They  were  compelled  to  by  the 
deluded  custom  of  the  times.  Few  men -were  ^rave 
enough  to  refuse  a  challenge.  But  one  thing,  a 
man  who  was  known  to  have  figured  on  the  field  of 


Two  Duels  229 

honor,  sooner  or  later  found  himself  there  again, 
and  generally  it  was  once  too  often. 

The  second  duel  to  be  told  about  here,  has  a  slight 
connection  with  the  first,  and  yet  belongs  more  prop- 
erly to  history.  Commodore  William  Bainbridge, 
who  was  one  of  Decatur's  most  intimate  friends, 
was  grateful  indeed  for  the  manner  in  which  he  had 
stood  by  his  brother,  and  when  Decatur  stood  in 
need  of  some  one  to  do  the  same  thing  by  him,  it 
was  but  natural  that  he  should  turn  to  Bainbridge. 

But  now  to  get  back  to  history :  Stephen  Decatur 
had,  against  his  will,  been  one  of  the  members  of  the 
court  martial  that  had  sentenced  Commodore  Bar- 
ron to  suspension  from  the  navy  for  Rvq  years  be- 
cause of  the  affair  of  the  Chesapeake  and  the  Leopard. 
Barron  had  gone  abroad,  and  was  in  England  when 
the  War  of  1812  was  declared.  His  period  of  sus- 
pension ended  shortly  after  the  declaration,  but  he 
did  not  return  to  America  until  over  a  year  had 
elapsed ;  and  then  presenting  himself  without  ex- 
planation, he  demanded  the  command  of  an  impor- 
tant ship.  Decatur  used  every  effort  to  prevent  his 
securing  active  employment,  taking  the  ground,  as 
he  explained  in  a  letter  written  to  Barron  himself, 
that  the  latter's  conduct  "  had  been  such  as  to  for- 
ever bar  readmission  into  the  service."  He  disclaimed 
any  feeling  of  personal  enmity,  but  was  firm  in  his 
opposition.     For  years  this  was  the  state  of  affairs  ; 


230  Two  Duels 

the  correspondence  between  Barron  and  Decatur 
grew  more  bitter  and  ironical,  and  at  last  it  culmi- 
nated thus : — 

Writes  Barron  on  the  sixteenth  of  January,  1820, 
dated  Norfolk:  — 

Sir  :  Your  letter  of  the  29th  ultimo,  I  have  received. 
In  it  you  say  that  you  have  now  to  inform  me  that  you 
shall  pay  no  further  attention  to  any  communications  that 
I  may  make  to  you,  other  than  a  direct  call  to  the  field ; 
in  answer  to  which  I  have  only  to  reply  that  whenever  you 
will  consent  to  meet  me  on  fair  and  equal  grounds,  that  is, 
such  as  two  honorable  men  may  consider  just  and  proper, 
you  are  at  liberty  to  view  this  as  that  call.  The  whole 
tenor  of  your  conduct  to  me  justifies  this  course  of  pro- 
ceeding on  my  part.  As  for  your  charges  and  remarks, 
I  regard  them  not,  particularly  your  sympathy.  You  know 
no  such  feeling.  I  cannot  be  suspected  of  making  the 
attempt  to  excite  it. 

I  am,  sir,  yours,  etc., 

James  Barron. 

To  this,  Decatur  replied  as  follows  :  — 

Washington,  Jan.  24,  1820. 

Sir  :  I  have  received  your  communication  of  the 
1 6th,  and  am  at  a  loss  to  know  what  your  intention  is. 
If  you  intend  it  as  a  challenge,  I  accept  it,  and  refer  you  to 
my  friend,  Commodore  Bainbridge,  who  is  fully  authorized 
to  make  any  arrangements  he  pleases  as  regards  weapons, 
mode,  or  distance.  Your  obedient  servant, 

Stephen  Decatur. 


Two  Duels  231 

And  so  the  fatal  meeting  was  arranged.  Cap- 
tain Elliot,  Barron's  representative,  and  Bainbridge 
chose  Bladensburg,  a  beautiful  spot  within  driving 
distance  of  the  Capitol,  as  the  duelling  ground. 
Letters  describing  contemporary  events  give  such 
vivid  pictures  of  past  scenes,  that  it  is  well  to  quote 
entire  the  letter  of  Samuel  Hambleton,  one  of 
Decatur's  closest  friends,  who  was  present.  This 
letter  was  written  shortly  after  the  meeting  had 
taken  place. 

Washington,  March  22,   1820. 

.  .  .  This  morning,  agreeably  to  his  request,  I  attended 
Commodore  Bainbridge  in  a  carriage  to  the  Capitol  hill, 
where  I  ordered  breakfast  at  Beale's  hotel  for  three  persons. 
At  the  moment  it  was  ready,  Commodore  Decatur,  having 
walked  from  his  own  house,  arrived  and  partook  of  it  with  us. 
As  soon  as  it  was  over  he  proceeded  in  our  carriage  tow- 
ards Bladensburg.  At  breakfast  he  mentioned  that  he  had 
a  paper  with  him  that  he  wished  to  sign  (meaning  his  will), 
but  that  it  required  three  witnesses,  and  as  it  would  not  do  to 
call  in  any  third  person  for  that  purpose  he  would  defer  it 
until  we  arrived  at  the  ground.  He  was  quite  cheerful,  and 
did  not  appear  to  have  any  desire  to  take  the  life  of  his  an- 
tagonist; indeed,  he  declared  he  would  be  very  sorry  to  do 
so.  On  arriving  at  the  valley  half  a  mile  short  of  Bladens- 
burg we  halted  and  found  Captain  Elliot  standing  in  the  road 
on  the  brow  of  the  hill  beyond  us.  Commodore  Bain- 
bridge and  myself  walked  up  and  gave  him  the  necessary 


232  Two  Duels 

information,  when  he  returned  to  the  village.  In  a  short 
time  Commodore  Barron,  Captain  Elliot,  his  second,  and 
Mr.  Lattimer  arrived  on  the  ground,  which  was  measured 
(eight  long  strides)  and  marked  by  Commodore  Bainbridge 
nearly  north  and  south,  and  the  seconds  proceeded  to  load. 
Commodore  Bainbridge  won  the  choice  of  stands,  and  his 
friend  chose  that  to  the  north,  being  a  few  inches  lower 
than  the  other. 

On  taking  their  stands.  Commodore  Bainbridge  told 
them  to  observe  that  he  should  give  the  words  quick  — 
"  Present ;  one,  two,  three,"  and  they  were  not,  at  their 
peril,  to  fire  before  the  word  "  one  "  nor  after  the  word 
"  three "  was  pronounced.  Commodore  Barron  asked 
him  if  he  had  any  objections  to  pronouncing  the  words  as 
he  intended  to  give  them.      He  said  he  had  not,  and  did  so. 

Commodore  Barron,  about  this  moment,  observed  to  his 
antagonist  that  he  hoped,  on  meeting  in  another  world, 
they  would  be  better  friends  than  they  had  been  in  this ; 
to  which  Commodore  Decatur  replied,  "  I  have  never 
been  your  enemy,  sir."  Nothing  further  passed  between 
them  previous  to  the  firing.  Soon  after  Commodore 
Bainbridge  cautioned  them  to  be  ready,  crossed  over  to  the 
left  of  his  friend,  and  gave  the  words  of  command  precisely 
as  before ;  and  at  the  word  "  two "  they  both  fired  so 
nearly  together  that  but  one  report  was  heard. 

They  both  fell  nearly  at  the  same  instant.  Commo- 
dore Decatur  was  raised  and  supported  a  short  distance, 
and  sank  down  near  to  where  Commodore  Barron  lay ; 
and  both  appeared  to  think  themselves  mortally  wounded. 
Commodore    Barron   declared    that    everything   had    been 


Two  Duels  233 

conducted  In  the  most  honorable  manner,  and  told  Com- 
modore Decatur  that  he  forgave  him  from  the  bottom  of 
his  heart.  Soon  after  this,  a  number  of  gentlemen  coming 
up,  I  went  after  our  carriage  and  assisted  in  getting  him 
into  it ;  where,  leaving  him  under  the  care  of  several  of  his 
intimate  friends.  Commodore  Bainbridge  and  myself  left 
the  grounds,  and,  as  before  agreed  to,  embarked  on  board 
the  tender  of  the  Columbus  at  the  Navy  Yard.  It  is  due  to 
Commodore  Bainbridge  to  observe  that  he  expressed  his 
determination  to  lessen  the  danger  to  each  by  giving  the 
words  quick,  with  a  hope  that  both  might  miss  and  that  then 
their  quarrel  might  be  amicably  settled. 

Samuel  Hambleton. 

Commodore  Bainbridge  told  of  hearing  the  fol- 
lowing conversation  as  Decatur  and  Barron  lay 
beside  each  other  bleeding  on  the   ground. 

"Barron,"  said  the  Commodore,  "we  both,  I 
believe,  are  about  to  appear  before  our  God.  I  am 
going  to  ask  you  one  question.  Answer  it  if  you  feel 
inclined.  .  .  .  Why  did  you  not  return  to  America 
upon  the  outbreak  of  hostilities  with  England  ?  " 

Barron  was  suffering  great  agony,  but  he  turned 
and  spoke  clearly  in  a  low  tone.  "  Decatur,  I  will 
tell  you  what  I  expected  never  to  tell  a  living  man. 
I  was  in  an  English  prison  for  debt ! " 

"  Ah,  Barron,"  returned  Decatur,  "  had  I  known 
that,  had  any  one  of  your  brother-officers  known 
it,  the   purse   of  the   service  would  have   been    at 


234  Two  Duels 

your  disposal,  and  you  and  I  would  not  have  been 
lying  here  to-day." 

'     "  Had  I  known  you  felt  thus,"  answered  Barron, 
"  we  would  have  no  cause  to  be  here.'* 

Sad  words  these,  sad  unfortunate  words,  because 
they  came  too  late.  Poor  Decatur  !  he  died  at  half 
past  ten  o'clock  that  night.  When  he  was  struck 
by  the  ball  which  lodged  in  his  abdomen,  he  is  said 
to  have  spoken  thus,  "  I  am  hurt  mortally,  and  wish 
that  I  had  fallen  in  defence  of  my  country."  Yes, 
that  was  his  great  sorrow ;  he  saw  the  uselessness  of 

it  all. 

So  much  for  the  code  duello,  so  much  for  false 
pride  and  extreme  ideas  of  what  should  touch  one's 
honor.  Can  we  think  that  such  things  really  hap- 
pened, and  so  short  a  time  ago  !  Have  we  not 
reason  to  rejoice  that  it  is  all  over  ?  That  people 
no  longer  start  at  the  sound  of  shots  in  shady  lanes, 
run  across  tragedies  on  lawns  or  in  tavern  courtyards  ? 
There  is  just  another  word  or  so  to  add  that  points 
a  stronger  moral  and  rounds  up  the  chapter: 
Joseph  Bainbridge  fell  also  in  a  duel.  He,  alas, 
had  many  of  them  ;  but  like  all  the  rest,  there  was  a 
last  one.  The  pubUc  mourned  many  times  because 
good  men  were  lost  for  causes  in  which  the  nation 
had  no  interest  and  that  could  have  been  passed  by 
with  a  wave  of  the  hand.  A  sad  history  that  of  "  the 
field  of  honor." 


DARTMOOR 


DARTMOOR 

THE  word  "Dartmoor"  means  little  to  the 
ear  of  the  American  of  this  generation,  for 
it  is  the  name  of  a  town  on  the  bleak  open 
stretches  back  from  the  sea  in  Devonshire.  But  dur- 
ing our  war  with  England,  and  for  a  long  time  after- 
ward, the  word  "  Dartmoor  "  brought  up  much  the 
same  kind  of  recollections  that  "  Andersonville  "  or 
"  Libby  "  does  to-day.  It  was  the  prison  where  Eng- 
land kept  in  confinement  those  unfortunates  that 
the  fate  of  war  had  thrown  upon  her  hands.  It 
was  a  safe  seclusion,  indeed,  and  for  the  better  ex- 
planation of  the  story  that  is  to  be  told  here,  it 
might  be  well  worth  the  while  to  tell  in  a  few  words 
what  manner  of  place  it  was.  Surrounding  an  en- 
closure, circular  in  shape,  and  containing  about  eight 
acres,  was  a  high  stone  wall,  where  the  sentries  pa- 
trolled their  beats,  where  they  could  look  down  into 
the  courtyards  of  the  gloomy  prison  buildings 
some  twenty  feet  below  them.  The  enclosure  was 
divided  into  three  partitions,  by  walls  that  crossed 
the  main  space  diagonally,  and  through  which  there 
were  grated  gateways  leading  from  one  department 

'^11 


23  8  Dartmoor 

to  the  other.  The  buildings,  seven  in  number, 
radiated  from  a  common  point  like  wheel  spokes. 
They  were  built  of  brick,  with  small  iron-barred 
windows,  and  in  the  entrance  archway,  leading  from 
one  yard  to  another  (each  building  had  a  separate 
yard),  there  were  always  stationed  after  sunset  two 
armed  sentries  with  primed  muskets.  While  the 
occupants  of  any  one  building  had  access  to  all  parts 
of  it  and  to  the  others  during  the  daytime,  it  was 
difficult,  indeed,  to  make  a  journey,  or  pay  a  visit, 
after  nightfall. 

Here  were  confined  six  thousand  prisoners,  and 
here  were  suffered  hardships  without  number.  There 
would  be  scarcely  space  to  tell  of  the  prison  life,  but 
some  there  were  there  who  had  been  immured  so 
long  that  they  had  almost  forgotten  that  they  had 
lived  anywhere  else.  They  had  become  so  resigned 
to  the  lot  of  a  prisoner  of  war,  that  they  had 
begun  to  doubt  if  they  should  ever  see  their  own 
beautiful  country  again.  From  the  upper  windows 
of  the  prisons,  the  view  above  the  walls  was  noth- 
ing but  a  stretch  of  bleak,  rolling  country,  treeless 
and  barren  —  the  Dartmoor  heaths.  The  inmates 
had  formed  a  government  among  themselves ;  as 
was  done  in  most  military  prisons,  many  worked  at  ] 
their  trades,  as  well  as  they  could ;  they  had  mar- 
kets in  which  they  sold  their  wares  ;  they  had  the- 
atrical  companies,  which   served  to   keep  up  their 


Dartmoor  239 

spirits,  and  lighten  the  dreary  hours  ;  but  there  was 
one  thought  in  the  hearts  of  all :  the  day  when  they 
should  receive  their  liberty.  Many  were  never  to 
see  that  day. 

There  was  a  young  sailor  confined  in  the  prison 
building  known  as  No.  5.  His  strong  constitution 
and  his  youth  had  kept  him  in  a  fair  state  of  health 
for  one  who  had  been  so  long  in  close  confinement, 
for  he  had  been  captured  in  a  privateer  in  the  first 
year  of  the  war.  Many  times  had  he  thought  of 
his  far-away  home  on  the  hills  above  the  old  town 
of  Salem.  He  was  popular  with  his  fellow-prisoners, 
and  had  been  a  leader  among  them  in  their  sports 
and  pastimes.  George  Abbott  was  his  name.  He 
was  but  six  and  twenty  years  of  age,  and  yet  he  had 
followed  the  sea  for  over  twelve.  When  he  had 
been  captured  there  had  been  taken  with  him  a 
young  lad  of  but  eighteen,  who  had  run  away  from 
a  comfortable  home  and  a  loving  family,  to  enhst 
on  board  the  privateer,  but  he  was  not  of  the  tough 
fibre  of  which  the  sailor  should  be  made,  and  since 
his  arrival  in  prison  he  had  been  gradually  succumb- 
ing to  the  effects  of  his  long  imprisonment.  Between 
Abbott  and  this  young  man  there  had  grown  up  a 
deep  affection.  The  sailor  had  shielded  the  lands- 
man from  much  of  the  rough  treatment  of  the  fore- 
castle while  on  board  ship,  and  now  that  they  were 
prisoners  together,  they  had  been  constant  compan- 


24O  Dartmoor 

ions  ;  but  it  was  plain  to  see  that  the  younger  of  the 
two  would  not  last  long  enough  to  see  the  dawn  of 
liberty  unless  it  came  quickly.  He  had  grown  so 
weak  that  by  the  middle  of  February,  181 5,  it  was 
expected  by  all  that  every  day  he  would  be  taken 
from  the  prison  buildings  and  sent  to  the  Depot 
Hospital,  from  which,  alas,  few  ever  returned.  But 
Abbott  nursed  him  carefully,  and  watched  over  him 
with  all  the  care  of  an  elder  brother,  trying  to  be 
always  cheerful. 

March  came,  and  with  it  the  gloomy  mists  that 
rose  from  all  around  settled  down  on  the  gloomy 
heaths,  shrouding  the  prison  buildings  in  impene- 
trable clouds.  It  was  hard  to  keep  either  dry  or 
warm.  Those  fortunates  who  owned  little  stoves 
would  huddle  around  their  handful  of  fire,  but  the 
prisons  being  unheated  and  unprovided  with  chim- 
neys, the  stoves  were  very  small,  their  little  pipes 
being  led  out  of  the  windows. 

Lying  in  a  hammock  that  had  been  swung  low, 
so  that  its  occupant  almost  lay  upon  the  floor, 
was  the  young  landsman.  He  stretched  out  his 
hand  toward  the  roughly  made  brazier  of  sheet  iron, 
and  so  thin  were  they  that  they  looked  more  like 
claws  than  the  fingers  of  a  human  being. 

"  Lord  help  us  and  deliver  us,"  he  murmured. 

"  Hallo,  Harvey,"  cried  a  voice,  breaking  in  upon 
his  prayer.     "I  didn't  expect  to  be  so  long.     We've   ^ 


Dartmoor  241 

waited  a  long  time,  but  here  it  is,  my  lad,  and  now 
let's  begin.  Shall  I  pitch  in  first  ?  I  ain't  much  of 
a  reader." 

He  held  aloft  in  his  hand  a  copy  of  a  smudgy, 
dog-eared  book,  smirched  and  torn  by  constant 
handling. 

"We've  been  waiting  our  turn  on  this  for  three 
weeks,  now.  Sam  Jordan,  he  promised  to  get  it 
for  me  though,  and  so  he  did." 

"  What's  the  name  ?  "  inquired  the  pinched- 
faced  lad  in  the  hammock. 

"  It's  R-a-s-s-e-1-a-s,"  was  the  response.  "  I 
dunno  how  to  pronounce  it,  but  they  say  as  how 
it's  good  reading.  Say  the  word,  and  I'll  fire 
away." 

He  flung  himself  down  on  the  floor  and  opened 
the  pages.  It  was  storming  hard  outside,  and  the 
rain  beat  against  the  roof  and  poured  from  the 
gutters  down  on  the  stone  courtyard.  There  was 
just  enough  light  to  see  the  print,  if  one  was  not 
afraid  of  ruining  one's  eyes,  and  Abbott  began :  — 

" '  Ye  who  listen  with  credulity  to  the  whispers  of 
fancy  and  pursue '  —  "  He  had  read  as  far  as  the 
first  half-page,  when  suddenly  the  sick  man  put  out 
his  hand  and  touched  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Listen,"  he  said  hoarsely,  "what's  that  going  on 
below  ? " 

Some  one  on  the  floor  beneath  had  given  a  loud 


242  Dartmoor 

staccato  whoop.  It  was  followed  by  another,  and 
then  by  an  increasing  murmur  of  voices.  The 
sailor  had  risen  to  his  knees  and  dropped  the  book. 

"  Some  skylarking  or  tomfoolery/*  he  said ;  "  or 
perhaps  it's  the  Rough  Alleys,"  he  added. 

The  "  Rough  Alleys  "  was  the  name  given  to  the 
gangs  of  hard  customers  and  those  of  the  lower 
order  of  prisoners  who  had  been  compelled  by  their 
more  circumspecting  and  better  behaved  compan- 
ions to  mess  by  themselves,  and  to  generally  toe 
the  mark,  as  much  as  possible.  Occasionally,  how- 
ever, they  would  break  out  in  some  sort  of  raid  or 
riot  that  would  require  suppressing,  and  it  was  to 
this  habit  of  theirs  that  Abbott  referred.  But  this 
time  he  was  mistaken. 

"  Listen  to  that !  "  he  cried,  all  at  once  springing 
to  an  erect  position.  A  roaring,  rousing  cheer  came 
up  from  below,  and  then  from  the  other  buildings 
they  heard  it  echoed. 

The  invalid  arose  from  his  hammock. 

"  Stay  here,"  cried  Abbott ;  "  I'll  fetch  the  news 
to  you." 

He  hastened  to  the  head  of  the  stone  stairway. 
A  breathless  man  dressed  in  fantastic  rags  met  him 
half-way  up. 

"  What's  the  row,  Simeon  ? "  asked  Abbott,  in 
excitement. 

"  Heard  the  news,  messmate  ?  "  the  man  cried  in 


Dartmoor  243 

answer.    "Heard  the  news  ?     There's  peace  between 
America  and  England  !  '* 

There  came  a  strange  sound  from  the  head  of  the 
stairs.  The  young  prisoner  had  heard  the  words, 
and  Abbott  was  just  in  time  to  catch  him  in  his 
arms  as  he  plunged  forward  senseless. 

What  had  these  men  expected?  These  prisoners 
who  had  danced  and  sung  and  gone  wild  with 
delight  and  joy  at  the  message  that  had  been  brought 
to  them  that  bleak  March  day  ?  Why,  liberty  at 
once.  They  were  going  to  return  to  their  homes. 
It  was  freedom!  And  did  they  get  it?  Listen! 
There  is  more  to  tell.     Here  begins  the  story  :  — 

Of  course  it  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  Brit- 
ish government  should  at  once  set  these  prisoners 
free,  as  one  might  set  free  birds  from  a  cage  by  open- 
ing the  door  and  allowing  them  to  fly.  It  was  a 
grave  question  what  was  to  be  done  with  them,  and 
there  is  no  use  denying  the  fact  that  the  United 
States,  or  at  least  its  representative  in  England,  was 
in  a  great  measure  responsible  for  what  subsequently 
occurred.  Ten  days  went  by,  and  there  was  nothing 
done.  In  that  space  of  time  the  men's  spirits  sank 
to  zero.  Had  their  country  deserted  them  ?  Had 
their  fellow-citizens  forgotten  them  ?  It  was  past 
believing  that  such  things  could  be.  And  it  was 
just  at  this   time   that  there  was   most   complaint, 


244  Dartmoor 

arising  from  the  quality  of  the  bread  and  the  insuf- 
ficiency of  the  food  suppHed  by  the  prison  authori- 
ties. The  Governor  of  the  Depot,  as  it  was  called 
by  the  English,  was  a  Captain  Shortland,  a  man  so 
well  hated  and  despised  by  those  under  him  that  if 
murderous  looks  had  the  power  to  kill,  he  would 
long  ago  have  been  under  the  sod.  Many  of  the 
prisoners,  as  they  had  caught  glimpses  of  him,  had 
longed  to  sink  their  fingers  into  his  throat,  and  now 
they  hated  him  worse  than  ever  before.  In  the 
beginning  of  the  second  week  information  was  sent 
the  rounds  of  the  prison,  that  the  delay  was  occa- 
sioned by  the  difficulty  that  the  representative  of  the 
United  States  government  found  in  obtaining  cartels, 
or  vessels,  to  bring  the  released  ones  back  to  their 
own  again.     But  the  delay  was  bitter. 

The  poor  sick  boy  had  rallied  a  little  during  the 
first  days  after  the  arrival  of  the  news  of  peace. 
Probably  he  supposed  that  he  would  be  released  at 
once,  but  as  the  days  dragged  on,  and  there  were  no 
signs  of  any  change  in  their  condition,  he  sank 
again  into  the  unfortunate  path  of  the  men  who 
slowly  died  because  they  had  no  hope. 

From  a  condition  of  joyousness,  the  majority  of 
the  prisoners  had  relapsed  into  sullen  anger  —  anger 
at  their  own  country,  and  an  increased  hatred  for 
the  red  coats  who  guarded  them.  Among  so  many 
prisoners  of  all  classes  there  were,  of  course,  men  of 


Dartmoor  245 

all  kinds  and  character :  there  were  the  Ignorant  and 
degraded,  and  those  who  could  well  lay  claim  to 
education  and  enlightenment.  Harvey  Rich,  who 
was  now  so  weak  that  he  could  scarcely  totter  from 
his  hammock  to  the  head  of  the  stairway,  had  been 
prepared  to  enter  Harvard  College,  when  he  had 
caught  the  fever  of  adventure  and  had  run  away  to 
sea.     At  the  request  of  the  inmates  of  Prison  No.  5, 

he  had  drawn  up  a  letter  addressed  to  Mr.  B. 

(the  American  agent),  requesting  him  to  make  all 
haste ;  and,  at  least,  if  he  could  do  no  more,  to  secure 
to  them  an  additional  supply  of  provisions,  or  make 
a  monthly  allowance  of  some  kind  to  save  the  men 
from  actual  starvation.  Anxiously  was  an  answer 
awaited,  but  none  came. 

One  day  late  in  the  month,  when,  for  a  wonder, 
the  sun  was  shining  brightly,  there  was  a  strange 
group  gathered  near  one  of  the  open  windows  on  the 
top  floor  of  Prison  No.  5.  Propped  up  by  blankets, 
so  as  to  get  as  much  of  the  sunshine  that  came 
in  at  the  grated  window  as  possible,  was  Harvey 
Rich.  Beside  him  sat  the  young  seaman,  and 
squatted  on  the  floor  near  by  was  a  remarkable- 
looking  human  being.  His  face  was  black,  his 
dark  hair  was  shorn  close  to  his  head,  and  a  band- 
age made  of  a  torn  bandanna  handkerchief  was 
pushed  up  on  his  forehead.  At  first  glance,  one 
would    have  taken  him  for  a  negro,  although    his 


246  Dartmoor 

features  showed  no  trace  of  African  descent.  The 
torn  shirt  that  he  wore  was  unloosed  and  open  at 
the  bosom.  The  skin  which  showed  through  from 
underneath  was  fair  and  white.  Every  now  and 
then  he  would  give  a  nervous  start  and  look  back 
over  his  shoulder. 

"  They  almost  had  you  last  night,  Simeon,"  said 
Abbott  to  the  half-black  man. 

"Yes,"  returned  the  other;  "I  thought  my  jig 
was  up,  for  sure ;  but,  confound  it !  now  that  there 
is  peace,  I  don't  see  why  they  wish  to  hound  me 
any  more.  'Tis  that  brute,  —  Shortland.  He's 
angry  at  his  lack  of  success  as  a  man-catcher.  I'd 
like  to  get  my  hands  upon  him,  —  only  once,  just 
once,  —  that's  all." 

Abbott  happened  to  look  out  of  the  window  at 
this  instant. 

"  Egad  !  "  said  he,  "  your  friends  are  out  again." 

From  the  grated  bars,  a  view  of  the  neighboring 
courtyard  could  be  obtained.  There  was  a  sight 
that,  when  seen,  used  to  make  the  prisoners'  blood 
boil  hotly.  Three  men,  heavily  manacled,  were 
walking  with  weak  steps  to  and  fro  along  the  nar- 
row space  enclosed  between  the  high  brick  walls. 
The  clanking  of  their  chains  could  be  heard  as 
they  moved.  But  as  if  this  were  not  enough,  be- 
side them  walked  three  sentries,  with  bayonets 
fixed.     For  half  an  hour  each  day,  they  made  this 


Dartmoor  247 

sorrowful  parade.  It  was  their  only  glimpse  of 
the  sky  and  the  sunlight,  their  one  breath  of  fresh 
air  during  the  twenty-four ;  and,  as  soon  as  it  was 
over,  they  were  hustled  back  to  their  place  of 
confinement,  —  a  dungeon  known  as  the  Cachet, 
—  where  no  light  could  penetrate,  and  the  only  air 
that  reached  them  was  through  the  shaft  of  a  dis- 
used chimney.  No  wonder  that  their  eyes  blinked 
and  the  tears  rolled  down  their  cheeks  when  they 
emerged  into  God's  bright  sunlight.  No  wonder 
that  their  haggard,  pale  faces  grew  each  day  more 
deathlike.  These  men  were  being  killed  by  inches. 
For  what  crime  ?  It  will  be  shown.  The  man 
whom  Abbott  had  addressed  as  "  Simeon "  had 
crawled  to  the  window  and  was  peeping  cautiously 
out.  A  wild  curse  broke  from  him,  as  he  viewed 
the  sight. 

"  Look  at  poor  Whitten,''  he  said ;  "  take  note 
of  him  ;  he's  not  for  long.  He  used  to  tell  me 
that  he  knew  that  he  was  going  mad.  He's  that 
already.     See  the  poor  devil  jabbering." 

He  gave  a  shudder.  It  was  only  six  weeks 
since  he  had  walked  to  and  fro  in  that  same  court- 
yard. There  was  a  grated  gateway  at  one  end.  It 
came  within  a  few  feet  of  the  archway  at  the  top. 
A  silent  crowd  of  prisoners  were  gathered  there, 
closely  watching  the  unfortunates.  Well  did  they 
all    remember    the    day    when    there   were    four    of 


248  Dartmoor 

them  ;  that  day  when,  just  as  the  prisoners  turned,  in 
following  the  footsteps  of  the  sentries,  one  of  them 
had  left  his  companions,  and,  making  a  great  leap  of 
it,  had  clambered  up  the  iron  gate,  and,  manacled 
as  he  was,  had  thrown  himself  down  among  them. 

Immediately  they  had  carried  him  into  one  of  the 
prison  houses,  where  they  had  filed  and  removed 
his  shackles,  and  had  since  hidden  and  protected 
him  at  great  cost  and  sacrifice.  Many  of  their  priv- 
ileges had  been  withdrawn  because  they  would  not 
give  up  this  man ;  they  had  been  routed  out  at 
night  by  files  of  soldiers  ;  they  had  been  counted  and 
mustered,  over  and  over  again,  and  yet,  among  the 
many  thousand  who  knew  where  Simeon  Hays  was 
hiding,  there  was  not  one  so  base  as  to  betray  him, 
not  one  to  point  the  directing  finger.  All  honor  to 
them.  Many  were  the  disguises  that  Simeon  had 
been  forced  to  assume.  He  had  been  a  mulatto 
mess-cook,  speaking  with  the  French  accent  of 
Louisiana ;  he  had  appeared  as  a  black-faced  yawp- 
ing Sambo,  who  had  cracked  guffawing  jokes  on  the 
heads  of  the  searchers  ;  he  had  passed  a  day  and  a 
night  in  a  coffin-like  space  between  the  floor-beams, 
when  they  had  him  cornered,  and  yet  they  had  not 
caught  him. 

And  for  what  crime  were  these  men  treated  thus  ^ 
For  a  crime  that  was  never  proved  against  them. 
They  had  been  taken   by  a  British  frigate  from  a 


Dartmoor  249 

recaptured  prize,  and  shortly  afterward  the  vessel 
had  been  found  to  be  on  fire.  These  men  had  been 
accused  of  attempting  to  blow  up  the  ship  and  her 
company,  and  when  they  were  sent  to  Dartmoor 
they  were  under  sentence  to  close  confinement. 
Here  was  Shortland's  opportunity.  His  cruel  and 
vindictive  spirit  rejoiced  in  carrying  out  the  order, 
and  it  chagrined  him  deeply  that  one  should  have 
made  his  escape,  and  every  day  he  attempted  to  lo- 
cate his  hiding-place  and  return  him  to  the  prison  — 
to  the  torture  of  the  dreaded  Cachet. 

Soon  the  half-hour's  breathing  space  had  expired, 
and  the  manacled  ones  had  been  withdrawn  from 
sight.  The  prisoners  flocked  to  their  buildings  for 
their  midday  meal.  Hays,  who  had  descended  to 
the  courtyard,  had  made  all  haste  to  return  to  No.  5, 
where  he  was  then  supposed  to  be  hiding,  although, 
owing  to  his  bold  disposition,  he  oftentimes  made 
the  range  of  the  lot ;  and  as  he  passed  by  the  open 
space  on  this  day,  although  he  did  not  know  it, 
a  turnkey  recognized  him,  and  soon  those  in  No.  5 
Prison  were  alarmed  by  the  cry  "  The  guard  is  com- 
ing !  Lie  low,  lie  low  !  "  But  they  found  that  the 
entrances  were  held  by  a  squad  of  armed  soldiers, 
and  that  this  time  Hays  appeared  certain  to  be 
apprehended.  But  search  here  or  there,  the  soldiers 
could  not  find  him.  Many  times  had  they  stepped 
over  his  hiding-place  in  the  floor. 


250 


Dartmoor 


Captain  Shortland,  who  had  been  afraid  to  enter  the 
building  to  personally  conduct  the  search,  remained 
outside  with  a  strong  guard.  The  disappointed 
officer  reported  at  last  that  he  was  unsuccessful. 

"  Why  don't  you  drive  them  from  the  building, 
then  ?  "   Shortland  thundered. 

"  They  are  sailors,  sir,  and  will  not  be  driven  by 
soldiers,  they  say.  They  seem  to  treat  the  whole 
affair  as  a  great  joke,  laughing  and  scampering  ahead 
of  my  men,  and  paying  no  attention  to  my  orders." 

"  Run  them  through  then,"  Shortland  returned. 
''  A  little  cold  steel  will  teach  a  serviceable  lesson  !  " 

At  this  minute  one  of  the  turnkeys  approached. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  he  said,  saluting ;  "  if 
you  let  me  turn  the  men  out  in  the  usual  manner, 
I  think  they  will  leave  quietly,  but  you  must  with- 
draw the  soldiers." 

Reluctantly,  Shortland  gave  the  order,  and  the 
red  coats  filed  out,  drawing  up  in  line,  behind  which 
he  carefully  placed  himself  The  turnkey  entered 
the  building  alone.  He  had  been  an  old  boatswain 
in  the  service,  and  drawing  a  silver  whistle  from  his 
pocket  he  piped  all  hands.  Then  in  a  stentorian 
voice  he  ordered  the  prisoners  into  the  yard.  They 
all  obeyed,  crowding  out  to  the  number  of  one 
thousand  or  more,  and  they  filed  past  the  soldiers 
in  a  compact  body.  One  of  the  last  to  leave  the 
building   was    Harvey   Rich.     He   tottered    down. 


Dartmoor  251 

alone,  and  joined  the  crowd,  that  stood  packed  in  a 
sullen  body,  crowded  within  a  few  paces  of  the  hand- 
ful of  soldiers,  who  stood  with  their  muskets  cocked 
and  ready.  Soon  the  officer  returned  from  his  fruit- 
less search. 

"The  man  cannot  be  found,  sir,"  he  said. 

Shortland  swore  viciously. 

"Turn  them  back  in  the  building,  then,"  he 
roared,  "  and  keep  them  there  without  water.  That 
will  fetch  them  to  their  senses. —  Back  through  that 
doorway,  all  of  you, "  pointing  with  the  heavy  stick 
which  he  always  carried,  for  he  was  a  gouty  man. 

But  the  prisoners  had  heard  his  threat,  and  not 
one  of  them  moved  a  step.  There  was  a  large 
trough  of  clear  water  in  the  yard,  to  which  they  had 
free  access.  The  weather  was  warm  and  clear. 
Suddenly  one  of  them  stepped  forward.  All  eyes 
turned  upon  him.      It  was  George  Abbott. 

"  We  will  not  return  there,  under  those  condi- 
tions," he  said  loudly.  "We  will  stay  here,  and 
die,  first,  every  man  Jack  of  us." 

A  movement  began  among  the  prisoners.  They 
crowded  in  closer  in  the  narrow  space,  and  a  mur- 
mur as  of  a  subdued  cheer  arose  among  them. 
Shortland  was  furious. 

"  Seize  that  man,"  he  cried  ;  "  seize  him  !  He 
shall  go  without  bread  and  water  both." 

No  one  moved. 


252 


Dartmoor 


"  You  cowards,"  he  muttered.  "  I'll  do  it  my- 
self, then  ;  make  way  here  !  " 

He  crowded  through  the  file  of  soldiers  and 
approached  the  sailor,  who  was  standing  there 
calmly,  with  folded  arms.  But  before  he  had  taken 
three  short  steps,  something  most  unexpected  hap- 
pened. Harvey  Rich,  who  was  standing  but  a  few 
feet  away,  stooped  swiftly  and  picking  up  a  loosened 
bit  of  the  stonework  of  the  courtyard,  he  hurled  it 
full  at  Shortland's  head.  It  would  have  killed  him 
had  it  struck  him,  but  it  only  grazed  his  cheek. 
Shortland  halted  and  retreated  hurriedly. 

"  Fire  on  them,*'  he  cried.  "  Take  aim  and 
fire." 

Thirty  or  forty  muskets  were  brought  to  the 
shoulder.  But  the  young  officer  in  command  of 
the  detachment  kept  his  senses.  Calmly  he  walked 
out  to  the  front.  He  knocked  up  the  muzzles  with 
his  unsheathed  sword. 

"  Steady,"  he  said.     "  As  you  were." 

Shortland  flung  an  oath  at  him,  and  turning  to 
the  red  coats  he  screeched  at  the  top  of  his  voice :  — 

"  Fire,  you  rascals,  fire!" 

Again  the  officer  sprang  forward  and  threw  up 
the  points  of  the  muskets  again. 

"  As  you  were  ;  steady,  men." 

That  cool  authoritative  tone  saved  a  frightful  scene; 
for  had   the  volley   been   delivered   at   such    close 


Dartmoor  253 

range,  there  is  no  telling  how  much  slaughter  had 
followed.  But  mark  this  :  there  would  have  been 
enough  men  left  to  strew  the  dismembered  bodies  of 
the  red  coats  about  the  yard  with  no  other  weapons 
but  their  naked  hands ! 

Shortlandj  stamping  and  fuming  in  anger,  turned 
upon  his  heel,  and  hastened  out  through  the  gate. 
Immediately,  the  Lieutenant  called  his  men  to  a 
shoulder  arms,  and  marched  them  after  him,  he 
himself  remaining  until  the  last  of  the  squad  had 
passed  under  the  archway.  Then  he  drew  a  thank- 
ful breath.  One  or  two  of  the  sailors  nearest  the 
entrance  saluted  him.  Gravely  he  touched  his 
heavy  bearskin  hat.  There  was  not  a  cheer  or  a 
sound  of  the  usual  merriment  that  might  have  ac- 
companied the  discomfiture  of  the  "  lobster  backs." 
Every  one  had  been  too  much  impressed  with  the 
seriousness  of  the  matter  in  hand.  Yet,  there  was 
no  one  to  chide  Rich  for  his  impetuous  action. 
Silently  they  all  returned  to  the  prison,  and  once 
more  Simeon  Hays  emerged  from  his  hiding-place. 

This  night  news  was  brought  to  the  prisoners 
that  the  United  States  government  was  going  to 
allow  them  the  sum  of  seven  shiUings  sixpence  per 
head  in  addition  to  their  rations  given  them  by  the 
Crown  ;  also  the  news  was  circulated  that  the  first 
cartel  would  start  the  following  week,  and  the 
detachment  of  those  going  in  her  would  be  read 


2^4  Dartmoor 

at  the  morning's  muster.  The  names  were  to  be 
taken  in  alphabetical  order.  Again  there  followed 
great  rejoicing  in  all  of  the  prison  buildings.  Men 
whose  names  began  with  the  first  letters  of  the 
alphabet  were  in  high  spirits.  They  were  congratu- 
lated and  made  much  of;  while  the  poor  chaps 
who  were  to  tail  off  the  list  were  correspondingly 
depressed.  A  rather  important  occurrence  took 
place  on  this  night,  also.  Simeon  Hays,  who, 
as  a  special  treat  and  in  honor  of  the  occasion,  had 
washed  the  smut  from  his  face,  had  been  recognized 
and  taken.  Poor  fellow,  before  his  friends  could 
interfere,  he  had  been  hurried  off  to  the  confinement 
of  the  Cachet.  Before  this  news  had  circulated 
through  the  building.  Rich  and  Abbott  had  held  a 
long  conversation.  The  former  was  objecting  stren- 
uously and  earnestly  to  a  proposition  that  the  young 
sailor  had  made. 

"  I  cannot  think  of  such  a  thing,"  he  remonstrated. 
"  It  would  not  be  right — " 

Abbott  interrupted  him,  "What  is  the  use,  mess- 
mate, of  talking  about  right,  in  such  a  case  ?  "  He 
lowered  his  voice,  "  Do  you  think  I  could  go  out 
and  look  any  man  square  up  and  down  if  I  left  ye 
here  ?     You've  got  to  do  it." 

Rich  shook  his  head  weakly,  "  I  can't  think  of 
doing  such  a  thing,"  he  murmured. 

"We'll  stow  all  further  conversation,"  was   the 


Dartmoor  255 

reply,  and  with  that  he  got  up  and  left  Rich 
alone. 

The  next  morning,  in  each  prison,  a  number  of 
names  were  read  off  until  two  hundred  had  been 
called.  Abbott's  was  the  first  read  in  Prison  No.  5. 
The  lucky  ones  were  told  to  get  their  dunnage 
ready  and  report  at  the  prison  entrance  at  half  past 
ten.     At  the  hour  named,  all  were  there. 

"  George  Abbott,"  called  out  the  officer  in  charge 
of  the  guard-room. 

"  Here,"  answered  a  weak  voice,  and  to  the  sur- 
prise of  those  who  knew  him,  Harvey  Rich  stepped 
forward.  A  moment  later,  and  he  had  passed  forth 
into  the  free  air  outside. 

Abbott  answered  to  his  friend's  name  at  the  roll- 
call,  and  thereafter  passed  by  the  name  of  Rich. 
They  would  come  to  his  name  on  the  list  some 
day,  he  reasoned,  and  he  knew  well  enough  that 
another  week  or  so  of  prison  life  would  have  fin- 
ished his  young  friend  for  good  and  all. 

On  the  3d  of  April,  owing  to  the  prison  au- 
thorities trying  to  change  the  fare  from  soft  bread 
to  hardtack,  there  was  a  small  riot  among  the  pris- 
oners, which,  however,  resulted  in  their  obtaining 
their  object  by  breaking  down  the  barriers  and  raid- 
ing the  bread-room.  This  did  not  increase  Short- 
land's  good  humor,  nor  did  the  taunts  levelled  at 
the   soldiery  tend  to  improve   the  feehng   existing 


256  Dartmoor 

between  them  and  the  triumphant  sailors.  On 
the  sixth  of  the  month,  it  was  fine,  clear  weather, 
and  the  prisoners  were  put  in  good  spirits  by  the 
news  that  Hays  and  his  companions,  the  word  of 
whose  condition  had  reached  higher  ears  than 
Shortland's,  had  been  liberated  and  had  left  the 
prison.  From  all  the  various  yards  there  was 
shouting  and  singing.  The  morning's  "  Liberty 
Party,"  as  the  sailors  called  the  lucky  ones  who 
were  to  start  for  America,  had  been  seen  off,  with 
rousing  cheers.  Those  left  behind  were  trying  to 
amuse  themselves  by  games,  and  horseplay.  A 
score  or  more  were  playing  ball  against  the  cross- 
wall  dividing  the  barrack  yard  of  the  soldiers  from 
that  of  No.  7.  In  some  way,  the  ball,  thrown 
by  a  careless  hand,  sailed  across  the  barrier  and 
fell  almost  at  the  feet  of  a  sentry  on  the  opposite 
side. 

"  Hi,  there,  Johnny  Bull !  heave  it  back  to  us," 
requested  one  of  the  men,  through  the  iron  grating. 
The  sentry  paid  no  attention,  and  soon  there  was  a 
clamoring  crowd  surrounding  the  opening,  beseech-  i| 
ing  the  imperturbable  red  coat  in  all  sorts  of  terms 
to  "  Be  a  good  fellow,  and  toss  back  the  ball."  p 

"  Just     heave    it    over,    Johnny,"     called    one. 
"  Don't  you  think  you're  strong  enough  ?  "  | 

The  sentry  whirled  angrily.     "  Come  and  get  it, 
if  you  want  it,"  he  said. 


Dartmoor  257 

"  Can  we  ?  "  shouted  a  half-dozen  voices. 

"  I  won't  touch  it,"  the  sentry  responded.  With 
that,  he  resumed  his  beat,  cursing  the  ball  players 
for  "  a  lot  of  troublesome  Yankee  blackguards." 

Half  laughing,  the  sailors  had  loosened  one  of 
the  stones  close  against  the  wall,  and  by  luck  found 
that  the  ground  was  soft  and  yielding.  The  mor- 
tar, too,  they  were  able  to  remove  easily,  and  with 
such  objects  as  they  could  pick  up  to  help  them, 
they  fell  to  burrowing  like  rabbits.  The  sentry, 
who  did  not  know  what  was  going  on,  or  how  his 
words  had  been  taken  up,  was  surprised  when  sud- 
denly he  saw  a  man's  head  and  shoulders  appear  at 
the  base  of  the  wall  on  his  side. 

"  The  prisoners  are  digging  out !  "  he  roared,  fir- 
ing his  musket. 

At  once,  the  soldiers  on  the  walls  began  firing, 
forming  into  squads  and  keeping  up  a  constant 
shooting  as  long  as  any  prisoners  were  in  sight. 
Those  in  the  central  yard,  known  as  the  Market, 
not  knowing  the  reason  for  the  fusilade,  and  won- 
dering why  the  alarm  bell  was  ringing,  did  not  re- 
treat into  their  buildings  ;  and  the  first  thing  they 
knew,  Shortland  himself  appeared,  entering  the  big 
gate  at  the  head  of  a  company  of  soldiers  with  fixed 
bayonets.  They  advanced  at  a  double-quick  step, 
the  prisoners  were  so  crowded  together  that  they 
could    not    escape.      Some,    not   seeing   why    they 


258  Dartmoor 

should  be  charged  in  this  fashion,  stood  their 
ground.     Shortland  had  lost  all  control  of  himself. 

"  Halt !  Aim  !  "  And  before  the  astounded 
victims  knew  what  was  going  to  happen,  he  had 
given  the  word  to  fire. 

A  crashing  volley  sounded.  When  the  smoke 
cleared  away,  wounded  and  dying  men  filled  the 
yard.  The  rest,  panic-stricken,  had  retreated  into 
the  buildings.  Seven  were  killed  and  fifty-six  were 
wounded  !  Poor  Abbott,  who  had  been  trying  to 
urge  his  comrades  to  hasten,  was  among  the  first  to 
fall,  shot  through  the  lungs.  As  no  one  told  of 
his  exchange  of  names,  he  was  buried  under  the 
name  he  had  assumed,  Harvey  Rich.  And  what 
of  the  real  owner  of  that  name  ?  Alas,  he,  poor 
fellow,  also,  did  not  live  to  see  his  home  in  the 
New  Hampshire  hills,  for  he  died  at  sea  not  long 
after  the  cartel  in  which  he  was  returning  had  set 
sail.  He  was  sent  overboard  in  the  sailor's  canvas 
shroud,  and  the  name  "George  Abbott"  was  stricken 
from  the  list  of  liberated  ones.  Few  knew  the  truth, 
and,  perhaps,  few  there  were  who  cared. 


The  deadly  volley. 


THE    RIVAL    LIFE-SAVERS 


THE    RIVAL    LIFE-SAVERS 

IT  was  February,  the  year  after  the  war.  The 
month  had  been  cold  and  stormy.  Frequent 
and  sudden  squalls  had  kept  everybody  on 
the  alert.  For  over  two  months  the  United  States 
frigate  Macedonian  (she  once  had  H.M.S.  pre- 
fixed to  her  name,  by  the  way)  had  been  facing  the 
bad  weather,  that  had  ranged  from  the  Bermudas  as 
far  to  the  eastward  as  the  Bay  of  Biscay.  It  was 
blowing  great  guns  on  this  particular  morning,  and 
blowing  with  that  promise  of  thick  weather  that  sea- 
men learn  to  recognize  so  readily.  Not  two  miles 
away  an  English  frigate  was  seen  coming  grandly 
along  as  she  shortened  sail. 

It  did  not  require  the  aid  of  the  falling  barometer 
or  the  sight  of  the  thick  black  clouds  gathering  to 
the  northeast,  to  prove  that  they  were  in  for  it  again. 

Two  men  were  on  the  Macedonian  s  main  topgal- 
lant yard.  They  were  trying  to  spill  the  wind  out 
of  the  sail  that  was  standing  straight  up  above  their 
heads  like  a  great  balloon. 

"  Confound  this  business,  anyhow,"  grunted  the 
older  man.     "  Did  you  ever  see  such  an  evil-acting 

261 


262  The  Rival  Life-Savers 

bit  of  rag  in  your  life  ? "  He  pounded  into  the 
struggling  canvas,  as  if  he  could  sink  his  blunt  fin- 
gers in  the  folds  and  obtain  a  better  grasp.  But  the 
wind  had  firm  hold  on  it,  and  had  filled  it  so  taut 
that  it  was  struggling  and  moving  like  the  body  of 
a  living  thing. 

"  Hold  hard  !  "  suddenly  exclaimed  the  younger 
man ;  "  I  see  what's  the  matter."  Just  the  second 
before  he  spoke,  the  leech  of  the  topgallant  sail  had 
caught  over  the  end  of  the  yard  arm.  He  lay  out 
on  the  yard  to  clear  it,  his  loosened  hair  and  his  big 
collar  flapping  across  his  face. 

The  elder  man  shouted  something  to  him,  prob- 
ably in  warning ;  but  the  sails  were  making  such  a 
thunder  of  it  that  his  words  could  not  be  heard. 
When  the  leech  was  cast  loose,  the  yard  gave  a 
heavy  pitch,  the  sail  gave  a  jump  that  tore  it  from 
the  hands  of  the  men  nearer  inboard,  and  the  young 
fellow,  whose  balance  was  upset  by  the  sudden  move- 
ment, lost  his  hold  and  fell  back  with  a  sudden  cry 
of  fright.  He  caught  at  one  of  the  beckets  as  he 
slipped  ;  but  it  carried  away,  and  down  he  went,  strik- 
ing the  water  within  a  few  feet  of  the  frigate's  side. 

The  officer  of  the  deck,  who  had  been  roaring  up 
angry  imprecations  to  the  "  lazy  lubbers "  on  the 
yard  to  "  make  haste  and  get  in  that  sail,"  jumped 
back  toward  the  wheel.  Carrying  the  press  of  canvas 
she  was  then  under,  the  Macedonian  was  making  not 


The  Rival  Life-Savers  26^ 

far  from  thirteen  or  fourteen  knots,  and  almost  di- 
rectly before  the  wind.  It  was  no  laughing  matter 
to  bring  her  up  all  standing,  as  it  were ;  and  though 
men  were  jumping  here  and  there,  hauling  and  heav- 
ing with  the  added  strength  that  comes  from  the 
dread  cry  "  Man  overboard  !  "  it  was  almost  {ivQ 
minutes  before  the  great  ship  had  headed  up,  and 
during  that  time  she  had  left  the  spot  where  the 
poor  lad  had  gone  down,  by  a  mile  and  more.  The 
Lieutenant,  when  he  had  given  his  first  order,  had 
thrown  overboard  one  of  the  boat*s  gratings,  and 
this  had  been  followed  by  one  of  the  chicken  coops 
on  the  forecastle.  With  the  squall  coming  down 
upon  her,  and  the  stiff  wind  increasing  every  min- 
ute, the  Macedonian  lurched  up  and  down,  almost 
burying  her  nose  in  the  roaring,  tumbling  sea. 
Every  one  was  on  deck. 

"  *Tis  no  use  trying  to  lower  away  a  boat  now,  Mr. 
Edwards,"  observed  Captain  Stewart.  "  'Twould 
be  only  risking  the  lives  of  brave  men.  Stand  by 
for  a  few  minutes  and  keep  sharp  lookout."  Al- 
though it  was  blowing  hard,  the  air  was  filled  with  a 
thick,  gray  mist,  and  the  sky  now  appeared  to  close 
down  upon  the  water.  It  was  a  lonely,  fearful  place 
for  a  man  to  be  out  there  in  the  waste  of  the  waters, 
fighting  for  his  life.  It  was  a  lonely,  fearful  feeling 
for  men  to  have  who  must  leave  him  there.  And 
they  all  knew  him  well ;  they  liked  him,  for  he  was  a 


264  The  Rival  Life-Savers 

cheerful,  laughing  lad.  The  old  sailor  who  had  been 
on  the  yard  arm  with  him  had  descended  to  the  deck. 
He  was  telling  it  breathlessly  to  the  men  gathered 
about  him. 

"  Why,"  said  he,  "  I  hollers  to  him  to  be  care- 
ful when  the  sail  fetched  away.  It  was  just  as  if 
the  yard  tried  to  fling  him  off  like  that."  He 
snapped  his  fingers  at  arm's  length. 

A  man  who  was  standing  on  one  of  the  anchor- 
flukes  well  forward  suddenly  pointed  out  to  lee- 
ward. The  English  frigate,  that  had  been  last 
seen  holding  a  course  due  west,  was  now,  evi- 
dently, engaged  in  making  all  snug  for  the  coming 
blow.  She  had  heaved  to,  and  was  now  lying  with 
topsail  aback,  rearing  and  plunging,  —  sometimes 
pitching  down  until  her  hull  was  completely  hid- 
den in  the  hollows  of  the  seas.  The  mist  had 
blown  away.  A  clear,  shadowless,  distance-killing 
light  succeeded  it.  It  was  hard  to  tell  whether 
the  frigate  was  two  miles  off,  or  whether  she  was 
a  little  toy  boat  in  the  near  perspective.  But  the 
heaving  water  that  lay  between  the  ships,  crossed 
with  its  lines  of  white,  roUing  foam,  was  no  toy 
thing.  It  had  an  angry,  spiteful  look.  It  was 
pitiless,  and  yet  had  lost  the  dread  that  it  held 
when  hidden  in  the  treacherous  half-gloom  of  the 
mist. 

But  why  had  the  English  frigate  come  up  into 


The  Rival   Life-Savers  26^ 

the  wind  ?  All  hands  had  rushed  to  the  side.  It 
was  almost  as  if  they  had  forgotten  the  frightful 
cause  of  their  own  delaying.  Soon  all  was  under- 
stood. There  was  a  tiny,  white  speck  drifting  to 
the  southward  of  the  English  vessel.  It  would 
heave  to  the  top  of  a  great  sea  and  disappear 
again. 

"One  of  their  boats  is  out!"  roared  the  man 
who  was  standing  forward,  using  his  hands  for  a 
trumpet. 

The  officers  on  the  quarter-deck  had  now  sighted 
both  the  vessel  and  the  little  object  far  astern  of 
her.  The  First  Lieutenant  was  squinting  through 
the  glass  and  talking  excitedly. 

"Egad,  sir,  I  can  make  it  out;  there's  a  man 
clinging  to  a  cask  or  something  just  to  leeward 
of  that  cutter.  There  are  eight  good  men  in 
that  boat,  I  can  tell  you,"  he  added,  "  but  I  think 
they  have  lost  sight  of  him." 

The  lashings  of  the  whaleboat,  which  most  Amer- 
ican vessels  carried,  had  been  cast  loose  some  time 
before.  The  Captain  touched  the  Lieutenant  on 
the  arm. 

"  He's  as  near  to  us  as  he  is  to  them  ;  call  away 
the  whaleboat,"  he  said  quietly  ;  and  then,  turning 
to  a  young,  boyish-looking  officer,  —  one  of  the 
senior  midshipmen, —  he  said,  "Mr.  Emmett,  you 
will  go  with  her." 


266  The  Rival  Life-Savers 

"  Clear  away  the  bowlines  !  "  roared  the  Lieuten- 
ant. "Man  the  after-braces!  Be  lively,  lads  — 
lower  away !  " 

With  a  cheer,  the  men  of  the  crew  —  picked 
oarsmen  and  ex-whalemen  they  were  —  Nantucket 
and  New  Bedford  fellows — jumped  to  the  side. 
The  long,  narrow  boat  was  lowered  with  half  her 
crew  in  her.  The  other  half  slid  down  the  falls. 
Mr.  Edwards  leaned  over  the  side,  holding  his 
hat  on  with  both  his  hands. 

"  Mr.  Emmett,"  cried  he,  "  you  bring  back  that 
man ;  don't  let  the  Britishers  beat  you  ! " 

The  midshipman  looked  up,  touched  his  cap, 
and  grinned. 

The  man  handling  the  steering-oar  was  a  griz- 
zled, hawk-nosed  down-easter.  Many  a  time  had 
he  brought  his  boat  up  to  the  side  of  a  whale 
when  the  seas  were  running  high,  and  when  it 
would  have  appeared  that  a  small  boat  could  not 
have  lived,  much  less  fight  the  greatest,  strongest 
beast  to  be  found  on  all  this  earth. 

The  excitement  of  the  moment  cut  into  the  blood 
of  the  oarsmen.  They  were  going  down  with  the 
wind,  and  they  fairly  jumped  the  boat  from  one  J 
wave-crest  to  the  other.  But  occasionally,  as  a 
heavier  sea  would  come  up  astern  of  them,  they 
would  race  down  and  lag  for  an  instant  in  the 
hollow  until  lifted  by  the  next. 


The  Rival  Life-Savers  267 

The  tall  Yankee  must  have  been  reminded  of 
the  time  when  he  raced  with  the  other  rival  boats 
in  order  to  get  fast  with  the  harpoon  first,  for  he 
began  encouraging  in  the  old  whaleman  fashion  :  — 

"  Give  way,  my  lads,  give  way !  A  long,  steady 
stroke  now !  Do  ye  love  gin  ?  A  bottle  of  gin 
to  the  best  man ! "  forgetting  that  he  was  no 
longer  the  first  mate  of  the  old  Penobscot.  "  Oh, 
pile  it  on  while  you  have  breath  !  pile  it  on  !  On 
with  the  beef,  my  bullies  ! " 

The  men,  with  set  teeth  and  straining  backs, 
were  catching  together  beautifully,  despite  the  fact 
that  the  wind  threatened  to  twist  the  oars  out  of 
their  grasp.  The  little  middy,  sitting  in  the  stern 
sheets,  had  folded  his  arms  ;  but  he  was  swinging 
backward  and  forward  to  every  lift  and  heave,  with 
the  same  strange  grin  upon  his  face.  And  now 
the  steersman  caught  sight  of  the  English  boat  as 
she  hove  up  to  the  top  of  a  great  wave.  It  was 
plain  that  they  had  lost  sight  of  the  object  they 
were  seeking.  "  Oars ! "  cried  the  steersman.  The 
men  ceased  rowing,  and  watched  him  with  anxious 
and  nervous  eyes,  waiting  for  the  word  to  get 
down  to  it  again. 

"  There  he  is,  Mr.  Emmett !  about  a  half  a  mile 
away  there,  sir,  almost  dead  ahead  !  And  egad, 
they  see  him  too  ! "  for  just  as  he  had  spoken  the 
English  sweeps  had  caught  the  water  with  a  plash. 


268  The  Rival  Life-Savers 

Once  more  the  boat-steerer's  tongue  was  set 
awagging.  It  was  a  race  now  down  the  two  sides 
of  a  triangle ;  a  fair  race  and  a  grand  one. 

"  Every  deviFs  imp  of  you  pull !  No  talking ; 
lay  back  to  it !     Now  or  never  !  "  yelled  the  steerer. 

The  heavy  English  cutter,  with  her  eight  men  at 
the  oars,  had  caught  the  fever  too,  and  the  five 
rowers  in  the  Yankee  boat  had  work  cut  out  for 
them.  The  midshipman  was  now  standing  up, 
balancing  himself  easily,  with  his  legs  spread  wide 
apart. 

"  We'll  have  that  man,  my  lads  ! "  he  shrieked. 
"Only  think  he's  ours,  and  there's  no  mistake,  he 
will  be  ours  !  Give  way,  give  way  !  Now  we  have 
him  ! " 

The  man  could  now  plainly  be  seen,  clinging  to 
the  top  of  the  chicken  coop. 

"  It's  Brant,  of  the  starboard  watch,  sir,"  said  the 
steersman,  leaning  over.     "  Harkee,  he  sees  us." 

It  appeared  as  if  both  boats  would  arrive  at  the 
same  moment,  when  suddenly  a  most  surprising 
thing  occurred.  The  man  waved  his  hand,  and 
leaving  the  small  but  buoyant  raft  that  had  sup- 
ported him,  he  plunged  head  first  into  the  water  and 
struck  out  for  the  whaleboat  hand  over  hand.  The 
bow  oar  leaned  over  and  caught  him  by  the  back  of 
the  shirt.  A  quick  heave,  and  he  was  landed  between 
the  thwarts. 


E 


The  Rival  Life-Savers  269 

"  I  hated  to  spoil  a  good  race,  messmates/'  he 
pantedj  "or  I'd  come  off  to  you  before." 

The  English  cutter  was  now  alongside.  The 
men  in  the  two  boats  were  looking  at  one  another 
curiously. 

"  Thank  you  very  much  for  your  trouble,"  cried 
Midshipman  Emmett,  taking  off  his  hat,  and  having 
to  shout  his  words  very  slowly  and  distinctly  in 
order  for  them  to  be  heard. 

"  Nothing  at  all,  I  assure  you,  sir,"  came  the 
answer  from  the  young  man  in  the  other  boat. 
"  We  saw  the  whole  thing  happen,  and  would  have 
been  glad  to  pick  him  up  for  you.  This  is  Mr. 
Farren  of  the  Hebe'' 

"  This  is  Mr.  Emmett  of  the  Macedonian,  Good 
day !  " 

"  Good  day  !  " 

The  stern  way  of  the  English  vessel  had  carried 
her  well  to  leeward  of  the  boats ;  the  frigate  had 
come  about,  and  was  slowly  bearing  down  to  pick 
the  whaleboat  up.  Amid  great  cheering  she  was 
hoisted  in  at  the  davits.  The  hero  of  the  occasion 
saluted  the  quarter-deck  and  walked  forward  through 
the  crowd,  whose  anxiety  had  now  changed  to  merri- 
ment. At  last  he  saw  the  old  sailor  who  had  been 
on  the  main  topsail-yard  with  him. 

"  Bill,"  said  he,  "what  was  you  sayin*  when  I  left 
the  yard  to  umpire  that  thar  race  ? " 


RANDOM    ADVENTURES 


RANDOM    ADVENTURES 

THE  newspapers  published  during  the  War 
of  1812,  granted  even  that  they  were 
vastly  prejudiced  of  course,  contained  so 
much  of  thrilling  interest,  and  so  much  that  is  now 
forgotten,  that  a  complete  file,  for  instance,  of 
"  Niles's  Register  "  is  a  mine  of  wealth  to  a  student  of 
the  times.  Every  week  a  stirring  chapter  was  added 
to  the  records  of  Yankee  ships  and  Yankee  sailors. 
Fabulous  sums  were  paid  in  prize  money,  fortunes 
were  made  often  in  a  single  venture. 

One  of  the  luckiest  cruises  of  the  war,  so  far  as 
rich  returns  are  concerned,  was  made  by  a  little 
squadron  of  four  vessels  that  sailed  from  Boston  on 
October  8th  under  the  command  of  Commodore 
Rogers.  It  consisted  of  the  President,  the  United 
States,  and  the  Congress  frigates,  and  the  Argus  sloop 
of  war.  Five  days  after  sailing  the  United  States  and 
the  Argus  became  separated  from  the  others  in  a 
gale  of  wind,  and  afterwards  cruised  on  their  own 
account.  On  the  \c^t\i,  tht  President  captured  the 
British  packet  Swallow,  having  on  board  two  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars  in  specie  —  a  rich  haul,  indeed. 
T  273 


274  Random  Adventures 

On  the  31st  of  the  month,  the  Congress  captured  a 
South  Sea  ship  loaded  with  oil  that  was  being  con- 
voyed by  an  English  frigate,  the  Galatea;  the 
latter  made  off  and  left  her  consort  to  her  fate. 
The  President,  on  the  25th  of  October,  captured 
the  fine  English  frigate  Macedonian,  and  sent  her 
safely  into  New  London  harbor.  After  taking  one 
or  two  smaller  prizes,  the  President  and  Congress 
sailed  into  Boston  the  last  of  December,  having 
covered  over  eight  thousand  miles.  The  landing 
of  the  money  taken  from  the  Swallow  and  the  other 
prizes  was  made  quite  a  function.  It  was  loaded 
into  several  large  drays,  and  escorted  from  the  Navy 
Yard  to  the  bank  by  the  crews  of  the  frigates  and  a 
detachment  of  marines,  "  drums  beating  and  colors 
flying,"  as  an  old-time  account  has  it.  The  gold 
dust  and  specie  amounted  to  the  value  of  three 
hundred  thousand  dollars,  besides  the  value  of  the 
vessels  taken. 

But  the  little  Argus,  under  the  command  of  Cap- 
tain Sinclair,  had  some  adventures  worth  the  telling, 
before  she  returned  to  port  laden  with  the  fruits  of 
war.  After  parting  company  with  the  squadron, 
she  laid  her  course  for  the  coast  of  Brazil,  then  one 
of  the  most  profitable  cruising  grounds,  although 
the  waters  swarmed  with  British  war  vessels.  From 
Cape  St.  Roque  to  Surinam  she  sailed  and  there 
made  two  prizes ;   thence  she  cruised  through   the 


Random  Adventures  275 

West  Indies  and  hovered  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
Bermudas  ;  afterwards  she  went  as  far  north  as  Hali- 
fax along  the  coast  before  she  turned  her  head 
towards  home. 

The  Argus  must  have  been  a  nimble  vessel,  for, 
according  to  her  logbook,  she  had  escaped  imminent 
capture  a  score  of  times,  owing  to  her  speed  and 
capacity  for  sailing  close  on  the  wind.  Once  she 
had  fallen  in  with  a  British  squadron  of  six  sail,  two 
of  them  being  ships  of  the  line.  For  three  days 
and  nights  they  pursued  her  closely.  One  of  the 
big  fellows,  proving  to  be  a  very  fast  sailer,  out- 
stripped the  others,  and  twice  was  almost  within  gun- 
shot. On  the  fourth  day  the  Argus  came  up  with 
a  large  English  merchant  ship  about  sunset.  The 
wind  had  shifted  so  as  to  give  her  the  windward 
gage  of  the  pursuing  battle-ship.  In  full  sight  of 
her,  and  of  the  others  that  were  distant  some  ten  or 
twelve  miles,  the  Argus  captured  the  merchantman ; 
and,  under  cover  of  the  dark,  stormy  night  that  shut 
down,  she  made  her  escape  with  her  prize.  After  a 
cruise  of  ninety-six  days,  she  put  into  the  harbor 
of  New  York.  The  actual  value  of  the  prizes  she 
had  captured  amounted  to  upwards  of  two  hundred 
thousand  dollars  —  more  than  enough  to  pay  for 
her  original  cost  three  times  over. 

But  to  leave  the  deeds  of  the  regular  navy  and 
take  up  those  of  a  few  of  the  private  armed  vessels : 


276  Random  Adventures 

less  is  known  of  their  doings,  of  course ;  they 
should  be  given  a  separate  volume  to  themselves 
in  writing  the  history  of  our  wars  with  England  — 
and  the  volume  is  yet  unwritten,  but  some  day  it  may 
be.  Bravely  they  fought,  often  against  odds,  and 
more  than  once  they  contributed  to  the  defence  of 
our  coast  in  cooperation  with  the  regular  navy  and 
the  land  forces.  Take  operations  of  the  English 
blockading  squadron  under  Admiral  Warren  that 
was  sent  to  close  up  the  waters  of  the  Chesapeake. 
Many  were  the  times  that  the  privateers  eluded  his 
watch-dogs  and  sailed  in  and  out  through  his  fleet, 
and  more  than  once  did  he  have  a  chance  to  test 
their  metal.  The  schooner  Lottery^  of  Baltimore, 
mounting  six  guns  and  having  a  crew  numbering 
but  thirty-five,  in  February,  18 13,  was  attacked  by 
nine  large  British  boats  containing  over  two  hundred 
and  forty  armed  men.  For  an  hour  and  a  half  the 
privateer  stood  them  off,  and  before  she  was  finally 
captured,  she  had  killed  more  of  the  enemy  than 
her  own  crew  numbered!  The  privateer  Dolphin^ 
also  hailing  from  Baltimore,  was  taken  after  the  same 
heroic  defence,  and  Admiral  Warren  must  have 
found  such  work  to  be  rather  uncomfortable  experi- 
ence. The  United  States  schooner  Asp^  three  guns 
and  twenty-one  men,  was  pursued  up  a  shallow  creek 
by  a  detachment  of  boats  from  the  English  fleet;  and, 
after  beating  oflF  her  pursuers  for  some  time,  she  was 


Random  Adventures  277 

taken  by  superior  numbers  and  upon  her  capture 
was  set  on  fire.  But  the  Americans,  who  had  retreated 
to  shore,  returned  and  succeeded  in  extinguishing 
the  flames  and  saving  their  vessel.  A  remarkable 
thing  in  connection  with  the  presence  of  the  EngUsh 
fleet  in  the  Chesapeake  was  the  attempt  to  blow  up 
the  flagship  Plantagenet  with  a  torpedo.  The  news 
that  Americans  were  working  upon  such  a  line  of 
invention  had  filled  the  English  with  dread  and 
horror,  they  declared  that  any  one  captured  while 
engaged  in  such  a  work  would  be  hanged  at  once 
without  a  trial,  for  they  denounced  such  methods 
of  warfare  as  "crimes  against  humanity."  But  this 
did  not  deter  an  adventurous  projector  by  the  name 
of  Mix  from  trying  to  rid  the  bay  of  its  unwelcome 
visitors.  For  a  long  time  he  had  been  at  work  per- 
fecting a  "  new  explosive  engine  of  great  destructive 
powers,"  and  on  the  i8th  of  July,  at  midnight,  he 
dropped  down  with  the  tide  alone  in  a  small  row- 
boat,  and,  when  within  forty  fathoms  of  the  Plan- 
tagenet, he  put  his  torpedo  into  the  water  with  the 
intention  of  having  it  drift  with  the  tide  athwart 
the  flagship's  bows.  But  an  alert  sentry  on  one  of 
the  guard  boats  discovered  him  and  hailed ;  Mix 
drew  his  infernal  machine  into  his  boat  and  escaped. 
Every  night  for  a  week  the  inventor  tried  his  luck, 
but  was  spied  before  he  could  complete  his  prepara- 
tions, and  was  forced  to  draw  oflF.     But  once  he  so 


278  Random  Adventures 

frightened  the  English  officers  that  they  made  sail 
and  shifted  their  anchorage,  and  upon  another 
occasion  the  flagship  let  go  a  pell-mell  broadside, 
and  threw  up  rockets  and  blue  lights  to  ascertain 
the  whereabouts  of  the  lone  adventurer. 

On  the  night  of  the  24th  Mix  came  very  near 
to  accomplishing  his  purpose,  and  a  contemporary 
printed  account  gives  such  a  vivid  description  of  it 
that  it  is  well  worth  quoting:  "When  within  one 
hundred  yards  the  machine  was  dropped  into  the 
water,  and  at  the  same  moment  the  sentinel  cried, 
*  All's  well,'  the  tide  swept  it  towards  the  vessel, 
but  it  exploded  a  few  seconds  too  soon.  A  column 
of  water  full  fifty  feet  in  circumference  was  thrown 
up  thirty  or  forty  feet.  Its  appearance  was  a  vivid 
red  tinged  with  purple  at  the  sides.  The  summit 
of  the  column  burst  with  a  tremendous  explosion, 
and  fell  on  the  deck  of  the  Plantagenet  in  torrents, 
while  she  rolled  into  the  yawning  chasm  below  and 
nearly  upset."  Then  the  account  shortly  remarks, 
"  She,  however,  received  but  little  injury."  But 
this  early  attempt  at  waging  submarine  warfare 
made  the  British  exceedingly  weary  of  anchoring  in 
our  ports,  which  was  to  our  advantage. 

But  to  leave  this  digression  and  return  to  the 
privateers  again :  justice  has  not  been  done  them, 
as  we  have  said.  But  to  take  the  names  of  a  few 
and  tell  of  their  experiences  is  perhaps  a  good  idea. 


Random  Adventures  279 

Well  known  were  they  to  the  public  eighty  odd 
years  ago.  For  instance,  the  schooner  Atlas^  of 
nineteen  guns,  that  sailed  from  Philadelphia  soon 
after  war  was  declared  with  England  —  she  was 
famous  !  Her  captain's  name  was  David  Moffat, 
and  he  was  a  fearless  commander  and  a  "  right  good 
seaman."  The  Chronicle  and  the  Naval  Temple^ 
published  in  18 16,  give  each  a  short  account  of 
one  of  his  encounters  with  the  enemy ;  to  quote 
from  the  latter  :  — 

"  On  the  third  of  August  at  eight  a.m.,  the  Atlas 
discovered  two  sail,  for  which  she  bore  away.  At 
eleven  o'clock  the  action  was  commenced  with  a 
broadside  and  musketry.  She  continued  engaged 
with  both  ships  till  noon,  when  the  smaller  one 
struck  her  colors.  The  Atlas  then  directed  the 
whole  of  her  fire  against  the  large  ship,  when  the 
small  one,  although  her  colors  were  down,  renewed 
her  fire  on  the  AtlaSy  which  had  to  recommence 
firing  on  her;  in  a  few  minutes  every  man  was 
driven  from  her  decks.  Twenty  minutes  past 
twelve  the  large  ship  struck.  Possession  was  im- 
mediately taken  of  both  of  them.  One  proved 
to  be  the  ship  Pursuit^  Captain  Chivers,  of  four 
hundred  and  fifty  tons,  sixteen  guns,  and  thirty-five 
men.  The  other  was  the  ship  Planter,  Captain 
Frith,  of  two  hundred  and  eighty  tons,  twelve  guns, 
and  fifteen  men."     They  proved  to  be  richly  laden, 


28o  Random  Adventures 

and  with  both  of  them  in  her  wake  the  Atlas 
started  for  home ;  she  had  lost  but  two  men 
killed  and  five  wounded.  The  Pursuit  arrived  safe 
in  port  on  the  same  day  as  the  privateer,  but  the 
Planter  was  recaptured  off  the  cape  of  the  Dela- 
ware. 

The  privateer  Decatur  under  command  of  Cap- 
tain Divon,  after  a  long  and  severe  fight,  captured 
a  schooner  of  the  English  service  that  mounted 
fifteen  guns  —  over  twice  as  many  as  the  Decatur 
carried.  The  Saratoga  of  New  York,  Captain  Ader- 
ton,  took  the  Morgania^  a  British  packet  of  eighteen 
guns,  off  Surinam,  and  in  the  action  both  vessels 
were  nearly  dismantled.  The  Cornet^  of  Baltimore, 
had  a  running  fight  with  three  English  merchant- 
men and  a  Portuguese  sloop  of  war ;  she  beat  oflF 
the  latter,  who  oflliciously  interfered,  and  compelled 
all  three  of  the  Englishmen  to  strike  their  colors. 
The  Young  Eagle  took  two  British  ships  at  once  — 
one  quite  as  large  and  as  powerful  as  she  was.  The 
Montgomery^  Captain  Upton  of  Boston,  mounting 
twelve  guns,  fought  yard  arm  to  yard  arm  with  a 
fine  sloop  of  war  belonging  to  the  English  navy, 
mounting  twenty  guns.  The  Surinam^  for  that  was 
her  name,  gave  up  the  fight,  and,  much  crippled, 
put  in  at  Barbadoes.  They  were  rare  good  fighters 
—  these  privateers. 

But  perhaps  one  of  the  strangest  adventures  was 


Random  Adventures  281 

that  of  the  Toung  Teazer  —  what  a  saucy,  impudent 
name  for  a  vessel ;  but,  according  to  account,  it  suited 
her  to  a  nicety.  Captain  Dobson  of  New  York 
was  part  owner  and  commander,  and  while  cruising 
off  Halifax  he  was  chased  by  a  large  armed  ship,  the 
Sir  John  Sherbroke.  As  she  kept  gaining  steadily, 
Dobson  headed  his  own  vessel  straight  for  Halifax 
harbor ;  he  passed  the  lighthouse,  and  as  he  did 
so  hoisted  up  English  colors  over  the  American 
in  order  to  lead  his  pursuer  to  suppose  he  was  an 
English  prize.  As  if  in  disgust  at  having  wasted 
so  much  time,  the  Sir  John  Sherbroke  hove  about 
and  put  to  sea,  and  as  soon  as  she  was  at  a  safe 
distance,  Dobson  hauled  down  his  misleading  colors 
and  did  likewise,  successfully  escaping. 

The  journals  of  the  time  are  crowded  with  ad- 
ventures such  as  these,  and  the  few  here  referred 
to  have  been  selected  merely  at  random.  But  they 
give  an  idea  of  the  adventurous  spirit  and  daring 
enterprise  of  the  Yankee  tars  and  captains. 


THE  STANDAED  SCHOOL  LIBRARY. 

(Each  Volume,  cloth,  50  cents.    Sold  singly  or  in  sets.) 

BAILEY.  LESSONS  WITH  PLANTS.  Suggestions  for  Seeing  and 
Interpreting  Some  of  the  Common  Forms  of  Vegetation.  By 
L.  H.  Bailey.     12mo.     Illustrated,     xxxi  +  491  pages. 

This  volume  is  the  outgrowth  of  "observation  lessons."  The 
book  is  based  upon  the  idea  that  the  proper  way  to  begin  the  study 
of  plants  is  by  means  of  plants  instead  of  formal  ideals  or  defini- 
tions. Instead  of  a  definition  as  a  model  telling  what  is  to  be 
seen,  the  plant  shows  what  there  is  to  be  seen,  and  the  definition 
foUows. 

BARNES.  YANKEE  SHIPS  AND  YANKEE  SAILORS.  Tales  of 
1812.  By  James  Barnes.  12mo.  Illustrated,  xiii  +  281 
pages. 

Fourteen  spirited  tales  of  the  gallant  defenders  of  the  Chesa- 
peake, the  Wasp,  the  Vixen,  Old  Ironsides,  and  other  heroes  of 
the  Naval  War  of  1812. 

BELLAMY.  THE  WONDER  CHILDREN.  By  Charles  J. 
Bellamy.     12mo.     Illustrated. 

Nine  old-fashioned  fairy  stories  in  a  modern  setting. 

BLACK.     THE     PRACTICE    OF    SELF-CULTURE.       By    Hugh 

Black.     12mo.     vii  +  262  pages. 

Nine  essays  on  culture  considered  in  its  broadest  sense.  The 
title  is  justified  not  so  much  from  the  point  of  view  of  giving 
many  details  for  self-culture,  as  of  giving  an  impulse  to  practice. 

BONSAL.  THE  GOLDEN  HORSESHOE.  Extracts  from  the  let- 
ters of  Captain  H.  L.  Herndon  of  the  21st  U.  S.  Infantry,  on 
duty  in  the  Philippine  Islands,  and  Lieutenant  Lawrence 
Gill,  A.D.C.  to  the  Military  Governor  of  Puerto  Rico.  With 
a  postscript  by  J.  Sherman,  Private,  Co.  D,  21st  Infantry. 
Edited  by  Stephen  Bonsai.     12mo.     xi+316  pages. 

These  letters  throw  much  light  on  our  recent  history.  The 
story  of  our  "Expansion"  is  well  told,  and  the  problems 
which  are  its  outgrowth  are  treated  with  clearness  and  insight. 

1 


BUCK.     BOYS'  SELF-GOVERNING  CLUBS.     By  Winifred  Buck. 

16mo.     x  +  218  pages. 

The  history  of  self-governing  clubs,  with  directions  for  their 
organization  and  management.  The  author  has  had  many  years' 
experience  as  organizer  and  adviser  of  self-governing  clubs  in  New 
York  City  and  the  vicinity. 

CARROLL.  ALICE'S  ADVENTURES  IN  WONDERLAND.  By 

Lewis  Carroll.     12mo.     Illustrated.     xiv+  192  pages. 

CARROLL.  THROUGH  THE  LOOKING  GLASS  AND  WHAT 
ALICE  FOUND  THERE.  By  Lewis  Carroll.  12mo.  Illus- 
trated.    XV  +  224  pages. 

The  authorized  edition  of  these  children's  classics.  They  have 
recently  been  reprinted  from  new  type  and  new  cuts  made  from 
the  original  wood  blocks. 

CHURCH.  THE  STORY  OF  THE  ILIAD.  By  Rev.  A.  J.  Church, 
vii  -h  314  pages. 

CHURCH.  THE  STORY  OF  THE  ODYSSEY.  By  Rev.  A.  J. 
Church,     vii  4-  306  pages. 

The  two  great  epics  are  retold  in  prose  by  one  of  the  best  of 
story-tellers.     The  Greek  atmosphere  is  remarkably  well  preserved. 

CRADDOCK.     THE     STORY     OF     OLD     FORT     LOUDON.     By 

Charles  Egbert  Craddock.    12mo.   Illustrated,  v  +  409  pages. 

A  story  of  pioneer  life  in  Tennessee  at  the  time  of  the  Cherokee 
uprising  in  1760.  The  frontier  fort  serves  as  a  background  to  this 
picture  of  Indian  craft  and  guile  and  pioneer  pleasures  and  hard- 
ships. 

CROCKETT.  RED  CAP  TALES.  By  S.  R.  Crockett.  8vo. 
Illustrated,     xii  +  413  pages. 

The  volume  consists  of  a  number  of  tales  told  in  succession 
from  four  of  Scott's  novels  —  "Waverley,"  "Guy  Mannering," 
"Rob  Roy,"  and  "The  Antiquary";  with  a  break  here  and  there 
while  the  children  to  whom  they  are  told  discuss  the  story  Just 
told  from  their  own  point  of  view.  No  better  introduction  to 
Scott's  novels  could  be  imagined  or  contrived.  Half  a  dozen  or 
more  tales  are  given  from  each  book. 


DIX.     A  LITTLE  CAPTIVE  LAD.     By  Beulah  Marie  Dix.     12mo. 

Illustrated,     vii  +  286  pages. 

The  story  is  laid  in  the  time  of  Cromwell,  and  the  captive  lad 
is  a  cavalier,  full  of  the  pride  of  his  caste.  The  plot  develops 
around  the  child's  relations  to  his  Puritan  relatives.  It  is  a  well- 
told  story,  with  plenty  of  action,  and  is  a  faithful  picture  of  the 
times. 

EGGLESTON.  SOUTHERN  SOLDIER  STORIES.  By  George 
Gary  Eggleston.     12mo.     Illustrated.     xi  + 251  pages. 

Forty-seven  stories  illustrating  the  heroism  of  those  brave 
Americans  who  fought  on  the  losing  side  in  the  Givil  War.  Humor 
and  pathos  are  found  side  by  side  in  these  pages  which  bear  evi- 
dence of  absolute  truth. 

ELSON.     SIDE  LIGHTS  ON  AMERICAN  HISTORY. 

This  volume  takes  a  contemporary  view  of  the  leading  events  in 
the  history  of  the  country  from  the  period  of  the  Declaration  of 
Independence  to  the  close  of  the  Spanish-American  War.  The 
result  is  a  very  valuable  series  of  studies  in  many  respects  more 
interesting  and  informing  than  consecutive  history. 

GAYE.  THE  GREAT  WORLD'S  FARM.  Some  Account  of 
Nature's  Crops  and  How  they  are  Sown.  By  Selina  Gaye. 
12mo.     Illustrated,     xii  -I-  365  pages. 

A  readable  account  of  plants  and  how  they  live  and  grow.     It 

is   as   free   as   possible   from  technicalities  and  well   adapted   to 

young  people. 

GREENE.  PICKETT'S  GAP.  By  Homer  Greene.  12mo.  Illus- 
trated,    vii  +  288  pages. 

A  story  of  American  life  and  character  illustrated  in  the  per- 
sonal heroism  and  manliness  of  an  American  boy.  It  is  well  told, 
and  the  lessons  in  morals  and  character  are  such  as  will  appeal  to 
every  honest  instinct. 

HAPGOOD.     ABRAHAM     LINCOLN.     By     Norman     Hapgood. 

12mo.     Illustrated,     xiii  -I-  433  pages. 

This  is  one  of  the  best  one- volume  biographies  of  Lincoln,  and  a 
faithful  picture  of  the  strong  character  of  the  great  President,  not 
only  when  he  was  at  the  head  of  the  nation,  but  also  as  a  boy  and 
a  young  man,  making  his  way  in  the  world. 


4 

HAPGOOD.  GEORGE  WASHINGTON.  By  Norman  Hapgood. 
12mo.     Illustrated,     xi  +  419  pages. 

Not  the  semi-mythical  Washington  of  some  biographers,  but  a 
clear,  comprehensive  account  of  the  man  as  he  really  appeared  in 
camp,  in  the  field,  in  the  councils  of  his  country,  at  home,  and  in 
society. 

HOLDEN.  REAL  THINGS  IN  NATURE.  A  Reading  Book  of 
Science  for  American  Boys  and  Girls.  By  Edward  S.  Holden. 
Illustrated.     12mo.     xxxviii  +  443  pages. 

The  topics  are  grouped  under  nine  general  heads :  Astronomy, 
Physics,  Meteorology,  Chemistry,  Geology,  Zoology,  Botany,  The 
Human  Body,  and  The  Early  History  of  Mankind.  The  various 
parts  of  the  volume  give  the  answers  to  the  thousand  and  one 
questions  continually  arising  in  the  minds  of  youths  at  an  age 
when  habits  of  thought  for  life  are  being  formed. 

HUFFORD.  SHAKESPEARE  IN  TALE  AND  VERSE.  By  Lois 
Grosvenor  Hufford.     12mo.     ix-f-445  pages. 

The  purpose  of  the  author  is  to  introduce  Shakespeare  to  such 
of  his  readers  as  find  the  intricacies  of  the  plots  of  the  dramas 
somewhat  difficult  to  manage.  The  stories  which  constitute  the 
main  plots  are  given,  and  are  interspersed  with  the  dramatic 
dialogue  in  such  a  manner  as  to  make  tale  and  verse  interpret  each 
other. 

HUGHES.  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  By  Thomas  Hughes. 
12mo.     Illustrated,     xxi  +  376  pages. 

An  attractive  and  convenient  edition  of  this  great  story  of  life 
at  Rugby.  It  is  a  book  that  appeals  to  boys  everywhere  and 
which  makes  for  manliness  and  high  ideals. 

HUTCHINSON.  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HILLS.  A  Book  about 
Mountains  for  General  Readers.  By  Rev.  H.  W.  Hutchinson. 
12mo.     Illustrated,     xv  +  357  pages. 

"A  clear  account  of  the  geological  formation  of  mountains  and 
their  various  methods  of  origin  in  language  so  clear  and  untech- 
nical  that  it  will  not  confuse  even  the  most  unscientific."  — 
Boston  Evening  Transcript. 


ILLINOIS  GIRL.  A  PRAIRIE  WINTER.  By  an  Illinois  Girl. 
16mo.     164  pages. 

A  record  of  the  procession  of  the  months  from  midway  in  Septem- 
ber to  midway  in  May.  The  observations  on  Nature  are  accurate 
and  sympathetic,  and  they  are  interspersed  with  glimpses  of  a 
charming  home  life  and  bits  of  cheerful  philosophy. 

INGERSOLL.  WILD  NEIGHBORS.  OUTDOOR  STUDIES  IN 
THE  UNITED  STATES.  By  Ernest  IngersoU.  12mo. 
Illustrated,     xii  +  301  pages. 

Studies  and  stories  of  the  gray  squirrel,  the  puma,  the  coyote, 
the  badger,  and  other  burro wers,  the  porcupine,  the  skunk,  the 
woodchuck,  and  the  raccoon. 

INMAN.  THE  RANCH  ON  THE  OXHIDE.  By  Henry  Inman. 
12mo.     Illustrated,     xi  +  297  pages. 

A  story  of  pioneer  life  in  Kansas  in  the  late  sixties.  Adventures 
with  wild  animals  and  skirmishes  with  Indians  add  interest  to  the 
narrative. 

JOHNSON.  CERVANTES*  DON  QUIXOTE.  Edited  by  Clifton 
Johnson.    12mo.     Illustrated,     xxiii  +  398  pages. 

A  well-edited  edition  of  this  classic.  The  one  effort  has  been  to 
bring  the  book  to  readable  proportions  without  excluding  any  really 
essential  incident  or  detail,  and  at  the  same  time  to  make  the  text 
unobjectionable  and  wholesome. 

JUDSON.      THE  GROWTH   OF  THE  AMERICAN  NATION.      By 

Harry     Pratt     Judson.     12mo.     Illustrations     and      maps. 
xi  +  359  pages. 

The  cardinal  facts  of  American  History  are  grasped  in  such  a 
way  as  to  show  clearly  the  orderly  development  of  national  life. 

KEARY.  THE  HEROES  OF  ASGARD:  TALES  FROM  SCANDI- 
NAVIAN MYTHOLOGY.  By  A.  and  E.  Keary.  12mo. 
Illustrated.     323  pages. 

The  book  is  divided  into  nine  chapters,  called  "The  ^sir," 
"How  Thor  went  to  Jotunheim,"  "Frey,"  "The  Wanderings  of 
Freyja,"  "  Iduna's  Apples,"  "Baldur,"  "The  Binding  of  Fenrir," 
"The  Punishment  of  Loki,"  "Ragnarok." 


KING.     DE  SOTO  AND  HIS  MEN  IN  THE  LAND  OF  FLORIDA. 

By  Grace  King.     12mo.     Illustrated,     xiv  +  326  pages. 

A  story  based  upon  the  Spanish  and  Portuguese  accounts  of  the 
attempted  conquest  by  the  armada  which  sailed  under  De  Soto  in 
1538  to  subdue  this  country.  Miss  King  gives  a  most  entertain- 
ing history  of  the  invaders'  struggles  and  of  their  final  demoralized 
rout;  while  her  account  of  the  native  tribes  is  a  most  attractive 
feature  of  the  narrative. 

KINGSLEY.  MADAM  HOW  AND  LADY  WHY:  FIRST  LESSONS 
IN  EARTH  LORE  FOR  CHILDREN.  By  Charles  Kingsley. 
12mo.     Illustrated,     xviii+321  pages. 

Madam  How  and  Lady  Why  are  two  fairies  who  teach  the  how 
and  why  of  things  in  nature.  There  are  chapters  on  Earthquakes, 
Volcanoes,  Coral  Reefs,  Glaciers,  etc.,  told  in  an  interesting  man- 
ner. The  book  is  intended  to  lead  children  to  use  their  eyes  and 
ears. 

KINGSLEY.  THE  WATER  BABIES:  A  FAIRY  TALE  FOR  A 
LAND  BABY.  By  Charles  Kingsley.  12mo.  Illustrated. 
330  pages. 

One  of  the  best  children's  stories  ever  written;  it  has  deservedly 
become  a  classic. 

LANGE.  OUR  NATIVE  BIRDS:  HOW  TO  PROTECT  THEM 
AND  ATTRACT  THEM  TO  OUR  HOMES.  By  D.  Lange. 
12mo.     Illustrated,     x  +  162  pages. 

A  strong  plea  for  the  protection  of  birds.  Methods  and  devices 
for  their  encouragement  are  given,  also  a  bibliography  of  helpful 
literature,  and  material  for  Bird  Day. 

LOVELL.      STORIES    IN    STONE    FROM   THE   ROMAN  FORUM. 

By  Isabel  Lovell.     12mo.     Illustrated,     viii  +  258  pages. 

The  eight  stories  in  this  volume  give  many  facts  that  travelers 
wish  to  know,  that  historical  readers  seek,  and  that  young  students 
enjoy.     The  book  puts  the  reader  in  close  touch  with  Roman  life. 

McFARLAND.      GETTING    ACQUAINTED    WITH    THE    TREES. 

By  J.  Horace  McFarland.     8vo.     Illustrated,    xi  +  241  pages. 

A  charmingly  written  series  of  tree  essays.  They  are  not 
scientific  but  popular,  and  are  the  outcome  of  the  author's  desire 
that  others  should  share  the  rest  and  comfort  that  have  come  to 
him  through  acquaintance  with  trees. 


MAJOR.  THE  BEARS  OF  BLUE  RIVER.  By  Charles  Major. 
12mo.     Illustrated.     277  pages. 

A  collection  of  good  bear  stories  with  a  live  boy  for  the  hero. 
The  scene  is  laid  in  the  early  days  of  Indiana. 

MARSHALL,  WINIFRED'S  JOURNAL.  By  Emma  Marshall. 
12mo.     Illustrated.     353  pages. 

A  story  of  the  time  of  Charles  the  First.  Some  of  the  characters 
are  historical  personages. 

MEANS.      PALMETTO  STORIES.      By  Celina  E.  Means.      12mo. 

Illustrated,     x  +  244  pages. 

True  accounts  of  some  of  the  men  and  women  who  made  the 
history  of  South  Carolina,  and  correct  pictures  of  the  conditions 
under  which  these  men  and  women  labored. 

MORRIS.  MAN  AND  HIS  ANCESTOR:  A  STUDY  IN  EVOLU- 
TION. By  Charles  Morris.  16mo.  Illustrated,  vii  +  238 
pages. 

A  popular  presentation  of  the  subject  of  man's  origin.  The 
various  significant  facts  that  have  been  discovered  since  Darwin's 
time  are  given,  as  well  as  certain  lines  of  evidence  never  before 
presented  in  this  connection. 

NEWBOLT.  STORIES  FROM  FROISSART.  By  Henry  Newbolt. 
12mo.  Illustrated,  xxxi  +  368  pages. 
Here  are  given  entire  thirteen  episodes  from  the  "Chronicles'' 
of  Sir  John  Froissart.  The  text  is  modernized  sufficiently  to  make 
it  intelligible  to  young  readers.  Separated  narratives  are  dove- 
tailed, and  new  translations  have  been  made  where  necessary  to 
make  the  narrative  complete  and  easily  readable. 

OVERTON.     THE     CAPTAIN'S     DAUGHTER.     By     Gwendolen 

Overton.     12mo.     Illustrated,     vii  +  270  pages. 

A  story  of  girl  life  at  an  army  post  on  the  frontier.  The  plot  is 
an  absorbing  one,  and  the  interest  of  the  reader  is  held  to  the  end. 

PALGRAVE.  THE  CHILDREN'S  TREASURY  OF  ENGLISH 
SONG.  Selected  and  arranged  by  Francis  Turner  Palgrave. 
16mo.     viii  4-  302  pages. 

This  collection  contains  168  selections  —  songs,  narratives, 
descriptive  or  reflective  pieces  of  a  Ijrical  quality,  all  suited  to  th* 
taste  and  understanding  of  children. 


8 


PALMER.  STORIES  FROM  THE  CLASSICAL  LITERATURE 
OF  MANY  NATIONS.  Edited  by  Bertha  Palmer.  12mo. 
XV  +  297  pages. 

A  collection  of  sixty  characteristic  stories  from  Chinese,  Japa- 
nese, Hebrew.  Babylonian,  Arabian,  Hindu,  Greek,  Roman, 
German,  Scandinavian,  Celtic,  Russian,  Italian,  French,  Spanish, 
Portuguese,  Anglo-Saxon,  English,  Finnish,  and  American  Indian 
sources. 

RIIS.  CHILDREN  OF  THE  TENEMENTS.  By  Jacob  A.  Riis. 
12mo.     Illustrated,     ix  4-  387  pages. 

Forty  sketches  and  short  stories  dealing  with  the  lights  and 
shadows  of  life  in  the  slums  of  New  York  City,  told  just  as  they 
came  to  the  writer,  fresh  from  the  life  of  the  people. 

SANDYS.  TRAPPER  JIM.  By  Edwyn  Sandys.  12mo.  Illus- 
trated,    ix  +  441  pages. 

A  book  which  will  delight  every  normal  boy.  Jim  is  a  city  lad 
who  learns  from  an  older  cousin  all  the  lore  of  outdoor  life  — 
trapping,  shooting,  fishing,  camping,  swimming,  and  canoeing. 
The  author  is  a  well-known  writer  on  outdoor  subjects. 

SEXTON.  STORIES  OF  CALIFORNIA.  By  Ella  M.  Sexton. 
12mo.     Illustrated,     x  +  211  pages. 

Twenty-two  stories  illustrating  the  early  conditions  and  the 
romantic  history  of  California  and  the  subsequent  development 
of  the  state. 

SHARP.  THE  YOUNGEST  GIRL  IN  THE  SCHOOL.  By  Evelyn 
Sharp.     12mo.     Illustrated,     ix  -f  326  pages. 

Bab,  the  "  youngest  girl,"  was  only  eleven  and  the  pet  of  five 
brothers.  Her  ups  and  downs  in  a  strange  boarding  school  make 
an  interesting  story. 

SPARKS.  THE  MEN  WHO  MADE  THE  NATION:  AN  OUTLINE 
OF  UNITED  STATES  HISTORY  FROM   1776    TO    1861.     By 

Edwin  E.  Sparks.     12mo.     Illustrated,     viii  +  415  pages. 

The  author  has  chosen  to  tell  our  history  by  selecting  the  one 
man  at  various  periods  of  our  afiFairs  who  was  master  of  the  situ- 
ation and  about  whom  events  naturally  grouped  themselves. 
The  characters  thus  selected  number  twelve,  as  "Samuel  Adams, 
the  man  of  the  town  meeting"  ;  "Robert  Morris,  the  financier  of 
the  Revolution";  "Hamilton,  the  advocate  of  stronger  govern- 
ment," etc.,  etc. 


THACHER.  THE  LISTENING  CHILD.  A  selection  from  the 
stories  of  English  verse,  made  for  the  youngest  readers  and 
hearers.     By  Lucy  W.  Thacher.     12mo.     xxx  +  408  pages. 

Under  this  title  are  gathered  two  hundred  and  fifty  selections. 
The  arrangement  is  most  intelligent,  as  shown  in  the  proportions 
assigned  to  different  authors  and  periods.  Much  prominence  is 
given  to  purely  imaginative  writers.  The  preliminary  essay,  "A 
Short  Talk  to  Children  about  Poetry,"  is  full  of  suggestion. 

WALLACE.  UNCLE  HENRY'S  LETTERS  TO  THE  FARM 
BOY.     By  Henry  Wallace.     16mo.     ix  +  180  pages. 

Eighteen  letters  on  habits,  education,  business,  recreation,  and 
kindred  subjects. 

WEED.      LIFE     HISTORIES     OF     AMERICAN     INSECTS.      By 

Clarence  Moores  Weed.     12mo.     Illustrated,    xii  +  272  pages. 

In  these  pages  are  described  by  an  enthusiastic  student  of 
entomology  such  changes  as  may  often  be  seen  in  an  insect's 
form,  and  which  mark  the  progress  of  its  life.  He  shows  how  very 
wide  a  field  of  interestmg  facts  is  within  reach  of  any  one  who  has 
the  patience  to  collect  these  little  creatures. 

WELLS.  THE  JINGLE  BOOK.  By  Carolyn  Wells.  12mo. 
Illustrated,    viii  +124  pages. 

A  collection  of  fifty  dehghtful  jingles  and  nonsense  verses.  The 
illustrations  by  Oliver  Herford  do  justice  to  the  text. 

WILSON.  DOMESTIC  SCIENCE  IN  GRAMMAR  GRADES.  A 
Reader.     By  Lucy  L.  W.  Wilson.     12mo.     ix  +  193  pages. 

Descriptions  of  homes  and  household  customs  of  all  ages  and 
countries,  studies  of  materials  and  industries,  glimpses  of  the 
homes  of  literature,  and  articles  on  various  household  subjects. 

WILSON.  HISTORY  READER  FOR  ELEMENTARY  SCHOOLS. 
By  Lucy  L.  W.  Wilson.  16mo.  Illustrated,  xvdi  +  403 
pages. 

Stories  grouped  about  the  greatest  men  and  the  most  striking 
events  in  our  country's  history.  The  readings  run  by  months, 
beginning  with  September. 

WILSON.  PICTURE  STUDY  IN  ELEMENTARY  SCHOOLS.  By 
Lucy  L.  W.  Wilson.     12mo.     Illustrated. 


10 

Ninety  half-tone  reproductions  from  celebrated  paintings  both 
old  and  modern,  accompanied  by  appropriate  readings  from  the 
poets.     All  schools  of  art  are  represented. 

WRIGHT.     HEART   OF   NATURE.     By  Mabel   Osgood  Wright. 
12mo.     Illustrated. 

This  volume  comprises  "Stories  of  Plants  and  Animals," 
"Stories  of  Earth  and  Sky,"  and  "Stories  of  Birds  and  Beasts," 
usually  published  in  three  volumes  and  known  as  "The  Heart  of 
Nature  Series."  It  is  a  delightful  combination  of  story  and 
nature  study,  the  author's  name  being  a  suflBcient  warrant  for  its 
interest  and  fidelity  to  nature. 

WRIGHT.     FOUR-FOOTED  AMERICANS  AND  THEIR  KIN.     By 

Mabel  Osgood  Wright,  edited  by  Frank  Chapman.     12mo. 
Illustrated,     xv  +  432  pages. 

An  animal  book  in  story  form.  The  scene  shifts  from  farm  to 
woods,  and  back  to  an  old  room,  fitted  as  a  sort  of  winter  camp, 
where  vivid  stories  of  the  birds  and  beasts  which  cannot  be  seea 
at  home  are  told  by  the  campfire,  —  the  sailor  who  has  hunted  the 
sea,  the  woodman,  the  mining  engineer,  and  wandering  scientist, 
each  taking  his  turn.  A  useful  family  tree  of  North  American 
Mammals  is  added. 

WRIGHT.     DOGTOWN.'     By     Mabel     Osgood     Wright.     12mo. 
Illustrated,     xiii  +  405  pages. 

"Dogtown"  was  a  neighborhood  so  named  because  so  many 
people  loved  and  kept  dogs.  For  it  is  a  story  of  people  as  well  as 
of  dogs,  and  several  of  the  people  as  well  as  the  dogs  are  old  friends^ 
having  been  met  in  Mrs.  Wright's  other  books. 

YONGE.       LITTLE   LUCY'S    WONDERFUL    GLOBE.     By  Char- 
lotte M.  Yonge.     12mo.     Illustrated,    xi  +  140  pages. 

An  interesting  and  ingenious  introduction  to  geography.  In 
her  dreams  Lucy  visits  the  children  of  various  lands  and  thus 
learns  much  of  the  habits  and  customs  of  these  countries. 

YONGE.      UNKNOWN   TO   HISTORY.      By  Charlotte  M.  Yonge. 
12mo.     Illustrated,     xi  +  589  pages. 

A  story  of  the  captivity  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  told  in  the 

author's  best  vein. 


^ 


14  DAY  USE 

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10Jul'64U- 


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General  Libfar>' 

University  of  California 

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